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kylopen · 9 months ago

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Yes, My lord?

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Brain rotting SMUT, barely any plot, reader is 1 month pregnant (you could probs imagine she is not if you really wanted to) Mentions of body insecurities, super fluffy, Anthony is so whipped for Y/N. Borderline pregnancy/breeding kink? switch reader, switch Anthony. unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it guys.

Summary: Since finding out you are pregnant Anthony simply cannot keep his hands to himself, and when you turn the tables his arousal runs wild.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X Reader

Masterlist

Length: 1.8k words

Note: I could NOT get this scenario out of my head, i had to get this written and published *sobs*

----

"That was a rather delightful evening"

You smile as you and Anthony ascend to your bedchamber for the night. The two of you had planned a ball to tell your family and friends the news of your pregnancy. The night was filled with laughs and joy from the family, excited about Anthony's first child with you.

The two of you approach the door and Anthony opens it for you, ushering you inside.

"Indeed, dear wife."

Anthony's eyes crinkle lightly at the sides as he smiles at you, approaching you from behind, fingers expertly undoing your corset. You sigh in relief, goosebumps on your skin at the feeling of release from your day clothes. Turning to face him you also begin to help Anthony from his clothes as he laughs lightly at your eagerness to help him.

Now nude in the middle of the room, Anthony looks you over in the faint candle light, his hand softly moving along the curves of your body. He follows closely behind as you perch yourself at your vanity, ready to take out your elaborate hairstyle. Anthony's hand gently pushes yours away from your head as he begins to take it out for you, looking at you through the mirror. His gaze was intense but loving, his eyes trained thoroughly on your flustered response to the intimate gesture.

"Look at me"

The sentence was commanding but gentle. You lift your eyes and he reaches for the hairbrush just beside you on the table. he begins slowly brushing your hair, gently getting rid of any knots or tangles. Anthony was always a gentle lover, but immediately after finding out you were carrying his child he became dead set on helping you with what he could. His tender nature shining through as he aids you in your bedtime grooming process. The feeling of his hands softly grazing your neck as he brushes has you in a trance, the soothing feeling of knowing you are safe and well taken care of my a man that loves you.

He begins massaging your scalp carefully as you let out a hum of approval. Anthony lets out a quiet laugh as he watches the bliss form on your face.

"I love you, Mr Bridgerton" you tease his formal name.

"Likewise, Mrs Bridgerton, I will love you for the rest of my life"

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach as you realise just how exposed the two of you are. Then it dawns on you, looking down at your puffy stomach, feeling as though you have already gained some baby weight. It had only been a month and you weren't even really showing yet. A flash of insecurity dances across your features at the thought of getting bigger. At this point, the Viscount could read you like a book and he stops his movements in your hair to lean down and kiss your head.

"Speak what is on your mind, my love"

You think for a second before answering.

"...My... Body..." you trail off.

"You are the most beautiful woman i have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Even more so now you are carrying our child."

You look down and pinch your widened hips, and in response Anthony moves your hand away, caressing you. He then grabs your hand, pulling you up to stand with his chest touching your back.

"There is nothing more appealing to me than my beautiful wife swelling with my seed..." his eyes darken at the thought as he begins to pepper kisses along your jawline and neck, lightly nipping and sucking and you shiver in his arms.

Heat rushes straight to your cheeks and in between your legs as you feel a solid length press against your lower back. You breath out shakily as he presses it harder against your backside.

"Anthony..." You moan softly, bordering a whimper.

The second he hears his name from your lips in such a tone he struggles to hold back, the heat in the room thickening with lust. He pushes you gently onto the bed and settles himself behind you, spooning you. His slightly rough hand glides slowly up and down your side, upper thigh to hip to shoulders. He caresses every part of your body paying extra attention to the parts you were most conscious about. You let out more whimpers from the intimacy of it all, your face feeling incredibly hot and you squirm under the touch. Your thighs squeeze together to relieve yourself in some way, only making Anthony smirk and his touches becoming more daring. His fingertips ghost along your nipples, but fall back down elsewhere on your body.

"Anthony... I am already-" you shudder as he passes by a particularly sensitive spot. "I am already pregnant..."

His laugh rumbles against your back.

"I am aware. That does not mean we cannot enjoy each others bodies hm, dear?" His tone was devilish as his touches become more bold. You flip onto your back and slightly part your legs with a pleading look to Anthony.

"So needy and impatient Viscountess Bridgerton" He tuts with a smirk.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands you launch up, planting yourself on top of him with heated cheeks. If he will be so cruel and tease you even in his aroused state, you would use him yourself. A look of surprise flashes across his face before it grows into an incredibly cocky looking grin. His body betrays him, as his chest rises and falls at a fast pace.

"What is this? darling wife." he cocks his head to the side, the same grin on his face. His eyes hold a fiery hunger.

"It seems, dear husband-" you adjust yourself just enough to tease his length and he softly moans, "That you enjoy your Lady wife taking control" you smirk, a new found confidence flowing through you at the look of your husband from above him.

He grabs your hips with both hands and grinds your core against him.

"My Lord" you moan, breathless, aware of what the title does to him.

"Y/N... I am warning you-" he begins to speak, using your name but you cut him off, pinning his hands above his head.

"Yes, My Lord?" You smirk at him as you lean in close, your lips ghosting his, only to pull away when he goes in for a kiss. You keep one hand holding his up as your other hand begins exploring your husbands chest, teasing him the way he was teasing you. Your finger lightly brushes against his groin before going up to his nipple, softly pinching the bud and a guttural moan escapes his mouth.

"How improper my Lord" you feign a gasp and he lets out a soft chuckle at your words, enjoying the confidence from his beautiful wife. The thrill and excitement from you pinning his hands above his head is almost too much to bare as he gets impossibly harder against your core. He couldn't dare say it aloud but the feeling of being at your mercy, a simple toy to you made his body weak. He could very easily remove his hands from your grasp and the two of you know it, and yet he does not move.

You plant hot, open mouth kisses on his chiseled chest, your arousal already coating his groin. he shudders under your touch and the wet feeling on his lower torso.

"You seem excited my Lord... Has something got you so?" you cock your head to the side, feigning an innocence and he groans at the sight of the same woman he gave her first orgasm to have him completely at her mercy.

"I could ask you the same thing, My dear" His tease came across in gravelly voice that screamed he was ready to take you here and now.

His cock sandwiched firmly between his abdomen and your wet pussy, you begin to rock your hips back and forward, sliding easily. The pressure on your clit had you whimpering and had him moaning in a deep voice.

"You are going to be the death of me" he looks deep into your eyes as you slide him inside you, the two of you moaning at the feeling. The teasing you both had endured was very clearly affecting you both, being incredibly sensitive.

He watches with hooded eyes as you bring your hand to your clit and begin to stimulate yourself. He could have sworn he died that very moment at the sight. It was not long at all until you came, and he relished in the feeling of your cunt throbbing around him.

"Y/N" He moans, moving his hands to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh.

"Do you wish to finish my Lord?" You smile sweetly.

"Yes I do, my dear" His reply full of lust, and a hint of neediness.

"Beg" The sweetness was immediately replaced with cockiness.

The command was simple but powerful as you look into his eyes, holding his jaw with your hand. He felt a shock wave of pleasure shoot through his body.

"Please..." his flustered face was incredibly cute.

"You can do better than that" you move slightly, to tease the feeling.

"Please! Oh god please" you almost came at the sound of his begs.

"You are free to do so... My Lor-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he sat up, you still on his lap and inside him. His hands grasped at your hips as he bucked up into you, his moans coming out as grunts mixed with whines. Hitting up into your g-spot mixed with his needy grunts and thrusts you came again, causing his orgasm to reach its peak, he continues to bounce you on top of him as he spills his seed deep inside of you.

Anthony falls back, his face delirious and euphoric, yours looking similar as you flop down onto his chest, his cock still buried inside you, slowly softening.

Within minutes he snaps out of it, gently pulling you off him, and onto the bed, approaching a second later with a wet towel he opens your legs and cleans you up, slightly smirking at the mess and your flustered face. after cleaning you up he places a soft kiss to your inner thigh and crawls back into bed with you.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and you move your head onto his chest, feeling exhausted. The room was filled with your soft snores in no time at all and he places a kiss on top of your head, a smile on his face as he looks at you.

"I am incredibly lucky to have you, my beautiful wife" he whispers before softly touching your stomach.

"And you too, my beautiful baby"

~End~

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x Y/N #plus size reader #x female reader #smut #bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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pucksandpower · 5 months ago

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What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

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jiuwi · 5 months ago

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hiii! hope you’re doing well,, can i request a pt. 2 of them being away at training camp with kageyama, ushijima, iwaizumi, and atsumu? (by no means do u have to do all 4) i really enjoyed the first one!! thank you so much <3

THEY’RE AWAY FOR TRAINING CAMP (PT. 2)

𖦹 part 1 here! ; ft. kageyama, ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu

notes: THANK U NONIE!! i hope you enjoy this one as well ^_^

𖦹 KAGEYAMA TOBIO

unknowingly reaches for his phone after training. sure, he’s miles away from home, yet he finds himself staring blankly at the screen for five whole minutes before hearing tsukishima snort from behind him.

“if you miss them so bad, just call. gosh, will a tiger bite your ass if you do?” tsukishima shrugs and leaves the room.

definitely feels embarrassed after tsukishima’s suggestion but agrees nonetheless.

his heart immediately flutters once he hears your voice. he hugs his knees and curls up somewhere in the corner of the room, listening to you speak.

“tobio? are you listening?” you ask for the 10th time, then as if on cue, he snores. oh.

𖦹 USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

golden retriever energy !!!

conversations with him are always:

“baby, i miss you :(”

“give me a hug once i get home please”

goes on facetime and tours you around the camp, ignoring the knowing stares of his acquiantances that are silently judging him for being all sweet and cutesy around you.

gets so clumsy while touring you around ( accidentally drops his phone, trips on a staircase, etc. )

your dynamic is basically—you asking him a question and him humming shyly in response.

𖦹 IWAIZUMI HAJIME

mr. “need you, miss you.”

late night calls are always present in your relationship

would take a midnight jog around the campus while listening to you talk about your day

ALWAYS waits for you to end the call first

“hajime?” your voice, soft and tired, silently yawns his name. he hums softly, leaning towards the speaker of his phone.

“sleepy?”

“yeah” you reply, and he smiles softly. “mn, okay. good night, let’s talk again tomorrow.” then a few seconds later, he hears your soft, peaceful breaths through the speaker, and he figured that you already fell asleep and forgot to end the call.

𖦹 MIYA ATSUMU

claims that he “misses you like crazy, it’s insane.”

definitely gets all whiny around everyone, especially osamu ( said twin later takes a picture of atsumu all splayed out on the floor and squirming like a baby )

“ew, can you stop doing that?”

“samu, you’re so mean!”

“i’ll really send this to y/n if you don’t stop.”

sighs a LOT. is also frustrated a LOT. so whoever’s practicing with him has to deal with his monster sets without a break.

#( ˶°ㅁ°) !!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #atsumu x reader #kageyama x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kageyama tobio #ushijima wakatoshi #iwaizumi hajime #miya atsumu

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ilylovelyz · 6 months ago

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⍣ ೋ after the break up (prt 2)

˚ · . kenma kozume, iwaizumi hajime, tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi & atsumu miya (prt 1.)

KENMA KOZUME — he feels really stupid. kenma does a lot after the breakup in order to distract himself. he buys more games, staying up until it's almost dawn. all of his attention goes into his video games and other devices that he completely stops taking care of himself subconsciously. it's only when he's lost almost 10 pounds is when he realizes how neglected he's become. it happened so fast it confuses him. why didn't you remind him to eat? or shower? oh.. right, it's because you broke up with him in the first place. still, he tries to forget. it's one night playing a game when he's dissociating randomly thinking about you does it all hit.

Super Mario Bro's plays in the background of his room. for once, his fingers are still but his eyes are locked on the pixilated screen in front of him. his eyes are red and dialted due to the bright screen contrasting to the dark dead of night. this game was very expensive, vintage and one of a kind—yet he's subconsciously stuck thinking about you.

did you know he thought about you so frequently? did you think the same of him? he drops the console, fishing his phone out from below him. his fingers tap on the keyboard, searching up your name into his contacts. he notices the last time you texted him was over a month ago. oh–, right. you broke up with him. right. kenma drops his phone back down, laying his face down into the same giant kirby plushie you bought him a long time ago.

a soft sniffle escapes through the thick material, mixing in with the almost taunting upbeat cartoon music.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — your breakup was done on good terms. he was moving to the U.S., you were staying in Japan. neither of you knew the relationship wouldn't withstand such a long distance relationship so the relationship came to an end. the two of you still call and text over random things, but it's not like how things were before. time passes, and the two of you have less and less contact. iwaizumi is doing his weekly stalking of your Instagram when he realizes you've posted a photo of yourself.. but you aren't alone.

iwaizumi sighs with content when he's finally allowed to sit down, his legs sore from harsh muscle training. as always, he checks his phone. once he's finished going through his messages, ignoring almost everyone except his mom, he comes across your contact. the last you spoke with him was almost a year ago. he frowns, he wishes the two of you kept in contact, but you both were just so busy.

curiously, he indulges in his guilty pleasure and opens up instagram. as if on autopilot, he searches for your online handle. you both follow each other, but of course, never speak. he mindlessly scrolls through your highlights and posts, ending up on your most recent one. it's you. his heart flutters at the sight of you once more. even through a screen, you're still as beautiful as always. you're glowing and radiant as always.

his childish smile soon disappears when he realizes someone has their arm wrapped around you. a guy. a guy who is looking at you with the same loving look iwaizumi would give you long, long, ago. iwaizumi uninstalls the app shortly afterwards.

TSUKISHIMA KEI — he avoids you. he pretends you don't exist altogether. his heart cringes whenever he hears you around, regretting immensely when the two of you arranged your classes together in the previous year. it's childish. no, he's childish. especially because the breakup was more of his fault. still, he hides the fact that his heart is broken. he treats you like everybody else with such hate and bitterness, and only realizes how stupid he's being when it's too late.

"hey kei." you say, walking along aside the tall blonde. "do you want to work on the project together? sensei said that–," "i don't want to work with you." he says coldly. tsukishima doesn't even look to acknowledge you, staring straight forward as he walks. "o-oh, well i just y'know—" you stutter embarrassingly, "i just thought that because—" tsukishima finally stops in his tracks, swiftly turning to you, looking at you through clouded lenses.

"why do you keep on pestering me." his tone leaves you shocked. you can't even think of words to say, only able to let out incoherent stutters and mumbles. "all you do is stutter, it's annoying." tsukishima says nonchalantly, still looking at you with distain.

that seems to shut you up for now. tsukishima is relived when you do, if you talked to him anymore he probably would've accidentally spilled how he missed you. his relief is short lived when he sees the tears roll down your face and out of embarrassment, you quickly walk away from him. he's left standing still, gazing down at the floor. heart heavy and regretting.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he thinks he's alright but he doesn't realize he's distraught. he continues on with his life like normal, seemingly at peace and happy with whatever he's doing. but, he does have to admit, he's been feeling a bit more.. confused? more like agitated. outside of his calm demeanor to untrained eyes, he seems perfectly normal. but, to those who are close with them, they can see what's actually going on in that seemingly perfect head of his.

hazel eyes watch closely as you walk past. ushijima awaits for you to come up to him like normal, talk to him and pester him with a million questions once more. he hated when you pestered him, he wished you were more quiet and reserved... or did he? he's not sure. because now you are walking away from him, not saying a single word. hell, you barely acknowledge his presence. how do you not? he's everything you said catches your eye, tall and muscular build, with a handsome perfect face.

"y/l/n." he rumbles out. the boom of his voice finally catches your attention, finally spinning around to acknowledge him. you seem defensive, like a cornered cat, a single eyebrow quirking up at his call. "..ushijima-san?" his heart, for some reason, sinks into his gut with the formality use of his name. what happened to toshi? for once, his words are stuck in his throat and he struggles to come up with something to say.

seeing that he's yet to say anything, you hurry out of his presence, trying to be released from the gaze of the man you are forbidden to love. meanwhile, ushijima is realizing for the first time, that maybe he lost someone who he isn't fine with leaving.

MIYA ATSUMU — he's like a pitiful dog. he plays off the break up like it's nothing, even to your face, he just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something under his breath and walked away. despite the two of you dating for a year, going through so many things together, hell, he even lost his virginity to you, but he still acts like it was nothing.. but everyone can tell it's not. much to his annoyance, even his twin brother tells him to take it easy following the break up. but he's fine. it was nothing. he definitely doesn't search for you in the crowd during his games, nor does he get the random pang of forgetfullness after school as if he should be waiting for you. he's fine.

a girl comes up to atsumu after his game, batting her long eyelashes and pouting her lips. "can i get your number?" she asks, making her voice as smooth as possible. atsumu blinks at her with a blank face before turning his back to her, ignoring her entirely. he ignores her whines and curses of embarrassment, his eyes scanning the emptying crowd.

"shes not here, 'tsumu." he hears a familiar voice say. atsumu snaps his head back to the direction of the voice, seeing osamu standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes low and unamused. atsumu scoffs at his brother, "yah i know." the two of them wait in silence, but for what? what is he waiting for? suddenly, his ears perk up at a familar body frame, eyes darting to the source only to be severally disappointed with the sight of a person who looks like you, but isn't you.

"let's go home, 'tsumu." osamu says, walking past the blonde haired man. atsumu waits a couple more seconds, taking another quick scan of the crowd before he's hestiantly following his brother, shoulders low and eyes to the ground.

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#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #atsumu miya #ushijima wakatoshi #kozume kenma #tsukishima kei #iwaizumi hajime #atsumu x reader #ushijima x reader #kenma x reader #tsukishima x reader #iwaizumi x reader

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aquaticmercy · 28 days ago

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Waste a Moment / Part 1

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by : @remoony

Word count : 2.8k

Note : This is the first of 17 parts which I will post every two days. I love writing stories that have a ticking time bomb-like conflict. The title is inspired by a Kings of Leon song of the same title along with Find Me, and Reverend. This was based on a request, but I might have taken a lot of creative liberties in expanding it. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!

Series Masterlist

“Static on Her Brain”

Bucky had grown used to the sound of your laughter. It was bright, it made his heart do acrobatic flips. It was a reminder of everything he thought he'd lost touch with.

Sometimes, it even cut through the icy walls he’d built around himself. He didn't feel like he deserved that kind of comfort, especially not from someone as stubbornly kind as you. But there you were, determined to breathe warmth back into his life, no matter how hard he tried to shut it out.

You kept trying, year after year. You weren't shy about it, nor did you hide your blatant crush on the former Winter Soldier— casual but respectful touches on his arm, bold compliments, always with that soft, teasing smile that lit up your face whenever you were near him.

But even as he kept you at an arm's length, Bucky had always watched over you. It was a subtle habit, one he barely allowed himself to notice. The moment you stepped into his periphery, he'd been quietly paying attention to you.

Maybe it was the way your laugh carried sweetness through a room, or the way you always seemed to understand people as if they were easy read novels.

Though he'd never admit it, he'd found himself intrigued.

In the beginning, he told himself he was just being cautious— he was just keeping an eye on the new recruit.

But that was a lie.

He noticed you in ways he knew he shouldn’t. He picked up on the small things about you—the way you’d bite the inside of your cheek when deep in thought, the faint scent of your perfume, the different strategies you used when you tried so hard to pull him into conversations he said he didn’t want to have.

He'd watch you in the training room, noticing the way your eyes would always find him. He’d catch those glances, and his heart would flutter at the shy but determined looks you’d throw his way.

He told himself that he didn’t deserve the things you were offering, that he didn’t need them.

That he didn’t need you.

But deep down, he wanted you. He’d wanted you from the start. And yet, he kept pushing you away, convinced it was better for both of you if he stayed in his lonely corner, watching from afar.

He kept his distance, pretending not to care. Pretending that your kindness didn’t chip away at his icy demeanour. Pretending he wasn’t moved every time you found some new way to show him he mattered.

So he watched. He made sure you were safe during missions. He made sure you weren’t training too hard. He made sure there was always one of your favourite donuts left after a long day. He made sure to always buy your favourite tea to stock up the kitchen in the compound.

And you never noticed.

Three years ago.

"Barnes, you should join us for drinks," you said. You stood with your hands on your hips, leaning on the locker room door. You were a new recruit, and this was your welcome party.

Everyone was invited, including him. Not that he wanted to be.

"No use hiding away when you’ve got a world to see,” you teased.

Bucky gave you a tight smile, just enough to be polite, and shake his head. "Not tonight."

It became a routine: you'd offer your kindness, your companionship, and he'd shut it down.

Politely, at first, but eventually his defences had to become sharper, colder.

You didn’t stop, though. Every morning, there you were. Every mission briefing, every late-night sparring session, you found a way to check in on him. Always so effortlessly sweet, always making sure he wasn't alone.

It did not work. Of course not. He had convinced himself that he was beyond saving.

A year ago.

"Why do you want me to join in on everything so bad?” He had whispered one day.

"Because you shouldn’t be alone, Bucky. I care about you,” you insisted, touching the back of his arm gently, “we all do.”

His heart ached hearing that— someone as sweet as you even thought about him.

He didn't deserve your care, not after everything he'd done, after the destruction he'd caused. And yet, there you were—a constant reminder of everything good he'd lost, everything he'd convinced himself he could never have.

He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t let you waste all that good on someone so irredeemable. Not on him.

So, he pushed harder. Harsher.

Monday.

You had sought him out with an offer for another friendly outing— a dinner offer at the new sushi restaurant down the street— when he finally snapped.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed. “I don’t want your company. I don’t need your pity. You think you’re being nice?”

You stared at him, eyes wide, lips parting as if you had been struck by lightning.

He had always been distant. But he had never been hurtful.

“I feel like I can't breathe around you.”

Bucky knew he’d gone too far the moment the words left his mouth.

The hurt in your eyes was instant. Your smile—the one that was always so readily offered—faltered before it disappeared entirely.

He wanted to take it back, but his fear, his pride stopped him from doing so.

You just swallowed and nodded, convincing yourself that his words didn’t hurt as much as it had. With a quiet goodbye, you turned and walked away.

He didn’t mean to hurt you.

He never did. But the closer you got to reaching him, the more terrified he was of what you could see in him.

You’d always been so persistent, but tonight had been different. He finally shattered something that may never mend.

The regret ate away at his brain for hours.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, I’ll find you, and I’ll make it right.

Tomorrow, he’d explain it all. He’d tell you about the fear that haunted him. He’d tell you how desperately he wanted you to be there, even though he’d spent years trying to push you away. Tomorrow, he’d make sure you knew that he cared— and had cared for so long, longer than he would ever care to admit. Tomorrow, he would admit that he’d been a fool to ever think you were better off without him.

Tuesday.

But tomorrow never came.

Bucky didn’t even realise you had a mission until Scott Lang mentioned it to him in passing over morning training.

It was unusual. Before a mission, you’d go around town, telling everyone you’d be gone. Even when you couldn’t reach him, during the days he would lock himself in apartment, you’d sent you a quick text message:

I have recon tomorrow. Will be back in a few days. In case you notice no one’s bothering you anymore :)

But not this time. Not after what he said to you.

That afternoon, while Bucky was making dinner, he got a call from Sam.

His body froze, his world shattered when Sam said that it was about you.

“We lost contact,” he said grimly.

Before Sam could finish, Bucky was already grabbing his gear to prepare for the rescue mission first thing tomorrow. There was a growing fear in his chest too overwhelming to ignore.

He couldn’t shake the image of your face after their last conversation—how you had looked at him, how hurt you’d been.

If something happened to you…

Wednesday morning.

The rescue mission was all chaos. Fire and rubble littered the landscape of what had once been a secure enemy base. Bucky moved through the debris like a man possessed, heart pounding in his chest with every second that passed without finding you.

Smoke burned his lungs with every breath as the acrid scent of scorched metal and chemicals filled the air. His pulse roared in his ears as he called your name again, his voice growing hoarse, his steps becoming frantic. The longer it took to find you, the more the knot in his chest tightened.

He called your name again, wailing like a lost ghoul wandering in the underworld.

Then, he saw it—a flash of your suit buried beneath concrete and metal, motionless.

His voice cracked as cried your name again, running towards the wreckage.

You had been squeezed in between the floor and half of the roof, a wedge of concrete was the only thing keeping you from being completely crushed.

Tears pricked by the edges of his eyes. He mustered all his strength and managed to lift up the entire roof— a display of strength he had never been able to achieve before.

His heart dropped when he saw your form beneath it all, your face pale, your breathing shallow—barely there at all.

"Stay with me," he muttered, lifting you carefully from the wreckage, cradling your body in his arms. He was shaking, studying your face for any signs of life he could find.

His fingers brushed across your cheeks, trembling. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the fear was too overwhelming. His voice was barely a whisper, “Please...”

Wednesday night.

The medics worked on you for hours, but you didn’t wake. Not after they stabilised your vitals, not after they brought you back to the compound.

Bucky sat by your bedside, his hand gripping yours so tightly his knuckles were white.

This was his fault. He knew that.

You had always been there for him, and when you needed him most, he had turned his back on you. He had broken you in a way he never thought possible.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered that night, voice breaking, his thumb brushing across the back of your cold hand. “You deserve so much better than this. I just... I just didn’t know how to handle it. I pushed you away because... because I was afraid. But I care about you. I care about you so much.”

His tears fell, landing softly on the blanket that covered you.

“I swear I’ll make it right. I’ll tell you everything I was scared to. Just please, wake up."

Thursday.

The next day was eerily similar, but this time, Bucky had a little more resolve. He leaned closer, his heart racing.

He still sat by your bedside, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. His hands, calloused from years of battle, trembled as they held yours, gripping tightly as if letting go would mean losing you.

“I can’t help but think about how you light up every room you walk in. You always found a way to pull me out, even if I didn't show it.”

He couldn't stop the way his foot tapped against the floor, an anxious rhythm that accompanied the erratic beating of his heart. Every breath he took felt shallow, laboured, as if the room were closing in on him. His throat burned, but he refused to break, not yet. Not while you were still here, though silent and unreachable.

He wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. “I miss you so much. I can’t do this without you.”

He let the silence wrap around him, hoping that somehow his words would reach you, wherever you were.

Friday.

When the medics told him there had been no change, Bucky’s fingers dug into the armrest of the chair. The leather creaked under his grip. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, but he couldn't loosen it.

As the hours passed, he found himself reminiscing, a small smile breaking through the heaviness. “Do you remember the time we went on the Latveria mission together? I thought I was going to be a distraction. You laughed and said I could never be. You told me I was your favourite partner. I should’ve known then that I meant something to you.”

He stood abruptly, pacing the small room, each step heavier than the last. His breaths came quicker, each exhale shaking as he rubbed a hand over his face, trying and failing to keep the panic at bay.

His voice cracked, regret bubbling just beneath the surface. “And I took you for granted.”

Saturday.

As the days wore on, his exhaustion became impossible to ignore. His limbs felt heavy, weighed down by sleepless nights and wrecked by the storm raging inside him. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands threading through his hair, tugging slightly as if the pain might soothe him. “I talked to Sam today. He says they’re doing everything they can.

He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration and fear blending into one. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.”

His chest tightened, a dull ache echoing from his ribcage as he stared at your motionless form, willing you to stir, to give him a sign that this nightmare would end.

“I’m waiting for you to wake up and tell me I’m being an idiot, that I need to stop worrying. I need you to tell me everything is going to be okay. Please, just be okay.”

But there was only the sound of the machines.

Sunday morning.

Bucky found himself hunched over the side of your bed, his head resting against the cool metal of the railing. His body hurt from staying in the same position for so long, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t move, couldn’t pull himself away from you. His metal hand tightened around yours, the cold vibranium contrasting with the warmth of your skin, though that warmth was fading. A shudder passed through him, his breath catching in his throat as he whispered your name again, desperate. His grip loosened, trembling, as though he feared he might break you, and yet, he couldn’t let go.

When he finally whispered those words— "I love you" —it felt like a weight had been lifted and dropped all at once.

His chest heaved with the force of it— the confession had cost him every ounce of strength he had left. His hand shook as he brushed a stray hair from your forehead, the contact both comforting and unbearable. His fingers lingered there, trembling slightly, as he traced the curve of your face, memorising every detail, every contour, as if were trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

“Come back.”

Sunday night.

Bucky sat at your bedside as he always did, his fingers brushing across your hand, the silence in the room deafening. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the side of your bed, fighting the exhaustion pulling at him.

That’s when he felt it.

A small, almost imperceptible twitch of your fingers.

His heart skipped, and he shot upright, searching your face, desperate for another sign of life.

He whispered your name, as if to coax you out of the depths you had drowned in.

Then your eyes fluttered open. Slowly, groggily, emerging from the deepest of slumbers. He sat there, frozen, his heart hammering in his chest from relief.

But when you blinked and your gaze settled on him, something was wrong.

Your expression wasn’t one of recognition. There was no relief, no joy—only confusion.

Your brows furrowed, and then, panic.

"Bucky?" you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse.

His heart soared at the sound of your voice, but before he could respond, you pulled your hand away from him.

"Bucky Barnes,” you repeated, the tremble in your voice unmistakable. "The Winter Soldier. You—you’re a hero."

His blood ran cold.

He said your name, his voice shaking, trying to understand.

But you weren’t listening. The look in your eyes wasn’t one of a friend who knew him, who had fought alongside him.

It was the look of someone staring at a stranger.

Bucky felt the room spin around him, his stomach dropping.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as your gaze darted around the white, sterile room in the medbay. "What... What happened to me?" you asked, your voice trembling, fear bleeding into your words.

But before he could answer, your eyes narrowed, and you whispered the last thing he ever wanted to hear. "Why are you here?" you asked.

His heart was hammering, pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. He searched your eyes for some sign, any flicker of recognition. But there was nothing. His grip loosened, a tremor running through him as he stammered, “You—you really don’t remember?”

You shook your head no.

“I’m your friend,” he said gently, hoping it would jog your memory.

You tilted your head, then chuckled in disbelief— a sweet sound that he had missed so dearly. “Why would a superhero be friends with a museum curator?”

You hadn’t worked in the museum for four years.

Four years.

You didn’t remember the last four years of your life.

-to be continued…

Taglist: @hzdhrtss @irisk12

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #Sebastian stan #Sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #Bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff

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cursedcola · 9 months ago

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?"- Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia (Pt.1 !) (Pt.2 Here!) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. ALSO SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 7 IN SILVER Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. I had to break Diasomnia into 2 parts because I exceeded tumblr's character limit. I have favorites I guess :/

This man is a child masquerading as an adult. As in to say that he resists any illogical emotions until they bottle up and explode. The traditional pathway for finding a life partner typically follows: stranger -> acquaintance -> friend -> crush -> lover ->partner. You know, as it normally goes when bonds form.

Sebek....is not a textbook case in this regard. His path is a bit more customizable

stranger -> person he is forced to interact with -> acquaintance of Lord Malleus -> Acquaintance of Lord Malleus that Sebek approves of -> Friend that Lord Malleus approves of -> Repressed Crush -> Acquaintance that Sebek avoids at all costs -> Acknowledged crush -> Acknowledged crush that Lord Malleus approves of -> Respected individual with mitigated interactions -> Courting -> awkward situationship -> lover -> awkward situationship (with better communication) -> spouse

Enough said.

This process isn’t as complicated as it may seem on paper. While there are many steps, Sebek is fortunate enough to have people in his life willing to force commitments onto him. It also helps that he has blind trust in a select few. This makes him a bit naive and easily influenced. A boon in the right hands, and a bane in others.

In short, Sebek is emotionally constipated and only acts when there’s a driving force. Otherwise he just gets frustrated. This is extremely apparent at two stages: ‘repressed crush’ and ‘awkward situationship’. Scratch that. Three stages.

Beginning at ‘repressed crush’ - Sebek realizes that he likes you when you ask about how his training is going. He happened by your dorm during his morning jog, and was more than happy to go off on a tangent of the strict regimen developed to forge a perfect knight.

Except that’s not what you wanted to hear. You were more interested in his health and how he was enjoying himself rather than how his work was benefitting Malleus.

His heart fluttered, as if a shock of electricity thrummed through his body. Having never felt this before, Sebek mistakes it for a lapse in his strength and runs off at a much faster speed than before. Forget a light jog, he had enough energy to run 500 laps around the school track.

Don’t you get it human?! You were distracting him! His body was at rest too long. Now shoo, you’re hindering him from doing his duty.

He represses these budding romantic feelings and ‘misinterprets’ them as deviant behavior. He even goes so far as to blame it on ‘useless hormones’ and convinces himself that it’ll pass. He spares it no thought until his pining becomes apparent to everyone except for himself

Que the driving force. Despite Sebek believing otherwise, he does have friends and his entire love-life can be credited to their affectionate stupidity.

Simply put, Ace takes every chance to seamlessly flirt with you whenever Sebek is around. Not in a subtle way either - he's making some risky comments and trying to eat up every moment of your time. The others in your year are well aware of what he's doing too. Deuce thinks he's being unnecessary, but also agrees that Sebek needs a push so he lets it happen. Epel has his gripes with Sebek, but admires him for his manly tenacity. So he's 100% in support of giving an extra push and even tries to copy Ace. Except... yeah, he's pretty bad at flirting so he gives up after one try. Jack is against it at first, not wanting to hurt your feelings in the process but gets talked into it after seeing you get salty over Sebek being distant. Ortho, bless his innocent soul, thinks of it as a fun experiment. Lil guy just wants everyone to be happy.

You have no idea though, which is great because all of Ace's attempts fail hardcore. Sebek and his chivalrous ways (jealousy) won't stand by if you're being constantly bombarded with 'unwanted' romantic affections.

Nevermind that you don't seem to be taking Ace seriously at all. It is still not proper behavior! It would be a stain to his Lord's image if Sebek knowingly let Malleus' beloved friend endure such a hardship.

Every time Ace makes an attempt, Sebek shuts him down faster than you ever could. You have no idea how he does it, but Sebek is always around when it happens. The timing is honestly creepy....until you catch on to what's happening because the Ramshackle prefect isn't a dumdum.

"So....prefect, how about we go get dinner together tomorrow? Just you and me, what do ya say?" Ace slides into the seat to your right during breakfast. He leans in on his fist, eyeing you with a mischievous grin that crinkles the heart on his cheek. Just as he does, Sebek occupies the seat at your left and pushes Ace back with his palm.

"Do you ever rest?! They will do no such thing, now eat your meal before it runs cold. The chefs worked too hard for their efforts to be wasted by a delinquent!" Sebek answers on your behalf like clockwork. This event was not an uncommon sight to anyone, neither was Sebek failing to control his volume, so no other student paid the show any mind.

Normally you'd let them spit a few words at each other before returning to their own devices. Yet letting this continue just felt cruel, especially knowing that Ace was doing it to get a rise from your friend. Although Sebek wasn't innocent in the matter either

"Alright - Ace, would you knock it off? You don't even like me that way so quit messing with my head. I thought you were better than this," you say in between bites, side-eyeing your friend with a disapproving glare "And you!" you turn to Sebek, "I can answer for myself. Why do you even care? It's not like you're in charge of my love life. Just because someone wants to date me doesn't make them a delinquent...sheesh"

Why...why does he care? Sebek short circuits at your scolding, opening and closing his mouth to rebuttal yet coming up with nothing. Angered by his own turmoil, he grabs his meal and goes to sit with others from his dorm.

Stupid human. How dare you be so haughty and ungrateful? He was just protecting you from....from, what exactly? It's not like you going out with Ace would impact him in any way. It's not like you were in danger or upset with his advances. If anything. he was doing a good job at keeping your relationship professional for the sake of his liege!

Go ahead and date that childish hooligan for all he cares! Sebek won't be there to protect you when you're lost, or lend you a scarf on cold winter days. Ace can be the one to call you before bed every night, and keep your yearbook photo on his desk. Possibly keep his favorite candid photo as a bookmark for his diary, not that Sebek would know anyone that keeps a journal. He can have your birthday written in his calendar with a heart drawn around it, and have your picture in his wristwatch. He can set alarms to know when your classes end and walk you home. He can worry when you're sick and listen to your obnoxious prying....he can receive all your affections, and have your loyalty. Listen to your silly ramblings and receive those random 'i just thought of you' presents that Sebek always has a dilemma over what their purpose serves

You can be Ace's headache, and Sebek's heart will be lighter for it. These attachments he's formed were a lapse in judgement and will never be allowed again.

...

Sebek asks his lord for permission to court you. The next morning Malleus wakes to find the devotee bowed outside his bedroom, forehead attached to the floor and hands laid flat on the ground in reverence. Sebek proceeds to begin a long rant about how he's succumbed to his inner demons, and that he has sinned for letting another in his heart - Malleus cuts him off, happy to see love blossoming and interested to watch it all play out. He tells Sebek to take good care of you, before leaving. Meanwhile Sebek is sobbing at his lord's blessing

Once he's gathered himself, Sebek runs to your dorm and pounds on the door with fervor despite the early hour

Grim shakes you out of sleep, grumbling something about an 'annoying bastard' at the door before flopping back in bed. He shoves two pillows over his ears and tells you to fix the problem. That's when you hear the thumping, it's relentless and somehow sours your mood beyond what you thought possible. Mornings were not meant to exist on the weekend. So with an irritated groan, you slip on a robe over your pajamas and answer the door. A fist pauses in the air, moments from striking you. Sebek freezes momentarily, his body going ridged before coughing into his fist. A light blush dusts his cheeks.

“G-good morning, human. I apologize if I've disturbed your sleep, but I have an important announcement that cannot wait any longer" Sebeck studders, focusing on the door pane instead of your disheveled morning appearance.

“Alright" you sigh, resigning yourself to his whims, "what is it?"

Sebeck bows at the waist. "I am in love with you. Please accept my affections."

And so the motions continued on. A most unconventional pairing - possibly the hottest topic of the school year, in the words of Cater Diamond - was formed. Sebek was cautious of Ace at first, their previous spats leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. When he found out the truth, he was both appalled and grateful. So much that he scorned all his friends for weeks on end for pulling a stunt like that - but also thanking them. He apologizes for calling Ace a delinquent, and his heart changes a bit in response to their 'unique' display of care. Their intentions were good, and in the end it worked out. So he can pardon the indiscretion.

Life goes on until your relationship forms an 'awkward situationship'. The first time is brief. As it is with most cases of young love, the binding force that ties you to them crumbles. On earth it is highschool. In Twisted Wonderland it is NRC. Sebek knows where he's going - to serve the Draconias . The grey area is what you plan to do...because as much as his affections have grown, Sebek isn't willing to give up his dreams for you.

He's astonished when you decide to follow him to Briar Valley. He doesn't even have to breech the topic - arrangements were already being made without his input. You wouldn't be staying at the palace against his Lord's wishes. Instead a small cottage was built at a safe distance from the main city. Close enough for you to visit the castle, and far enough for you to feel comfortable and not out of place.

Seeing you taking his wants into consideration alters Sebek's perception of your relationship. You truly were lovers, and not a passing 'hormonal induced fling'. You loved him, and it's here when he truly begins to consider a forever. It was like the time when he first called your name, no longer calling you by 'prefect' or 'human'. He had done it many times in private, yet doing so to your face altered his brain chemistry. He loved the way your name rolled off his tongue, and the way your attention became his at the call.

Which leads us to the third and final major block-aid. Years have passed, and Sebek's well grown as an established knight for the Draconia family. He works alongside Silver, and many other comrades in arms. Everything is exactly as he dreamed. Malleus has become a beloved, strong king. Sebek is respected, and you are thriving as well. He didn't have much faith in your ability to last alone - it's not that he doubts your abilities, but he did doubt his people. When you first moved to Briar Valley Sebek was well aware that there were many like his past self - fae with a hatred for humans. He worried you would struggle to fit in.

Yet you surprised him. The tensions did exist against your kind, but you managed to card a space for yourself in Briar Valley with ease. You didn't even work in the palace, instead choosing to work towards becoming a children's teacher and work towards helping future generations of fae feel comfortable around humans.

His family adored you - with his mother in particular fawning over how Sebek fell down the same pipeline she did. His father offers you both advice on being an interspecies couple - and Sebek actually found himself listening.

Huh. Character growth. Is this what it's like to mature?

All is perfect, yet not. Sebek is forced to confront this when news travels that a human was attacked on their way to the palace. The dread that coursed through his veins was unlike anything Sebek's felt in his entire life. Under Malleus' rule, humans were slowly becoming more prevalent in Briar Valley. They hadn't mentioned your name specifically, but he jumped the gun.

Against his better judgement, Sebek abandons his post and rushed to the city's clinic. The injured human wasn't you, thank the seven, but the dread lingered. So he ran to the school you taught at and practically barged into your classroom. Luckily it was empty as the day was near end. Sebek hadn't known that yet still behaved recklessly.

He rushed to your side, talking faster than your brain could keep up with while checking over your body. He flipped topics like a teen trying to pick a college major - scolding you for worrying him, blubbering gibberish about how you'd no longer be allowed to walk alone, and myriad of other things.

Sebek was so shook, that he completely forgot about his knightly station. Malleus didn't punish him for abandoning his post. Not like it mattered, considering Sebek was already doing ample damage on his own. The realization hit him like a stone punch to the gut - there was a threat to his liege, and instead of focusing on apprehending the criminal he chose to find you.

Malleus' power or his dismissal of the matter meant little in the overall picture. Sebek failed. He's ashamed beyond belief.

and yet, he can't help but wonder what ight have been. What if you were the one attacked and he chose to stay? He would have failed you in that scenario.

He's surprised to find that the prospect his failure hurts just as much - if not more. His lord is powerful, and there are many to serve him. Your last moments could have been spent in a cold medical bed, surrounded by strangers. Fading away and taking Sebek's dreams with you.

............

Ah. Since when had that word become plural? His dream was always to serve Lord Malleus. Now there are more - he wants a family, and he wants to go to that play you were organizing with the valley's children next weekend. He wants to become a greater knight to protect the city that houses all the people he cares about. Again, plural. Lilia, Silver, his siblings and parents, all the human and fae who are loyal subjects to his most revered. You, and your decedents to come.

It's frightening. How valuable one's life can become. His always belonged to the Draconia bloodline to do with at they pleased - now Sebek's in pieces. Is he truly worthy of being a knight if he cannot give his whole heart?

He doesn't blame you for this. In his youth Sebek might have tossed your relationship aside in a heartbeat - that, or he might've demanded Malleus dismiss him and send him to repent in exile or whatever. Sebek has a problem with embellishing with dramatics.

BUT... he's more mature now. Mature enough to realize that maybe he can have his cake and eat it too.

So, he asks Lilia for advice. At this time the general merely lazes around the castle like a bat on the wall - acting as an advisor and observer. Surely he'd know what to do.

"There is nothing wrong with sharing a heart amongst many. If anything, the toughest decisions make us stronger. The more you have to lose, the stronger you will become to protect"

Preach it grandpappy. Lilia wants to see his grandkids so stop the slow burn already.

It's deja vu because Sebek wants to propose as quick as possible. Just like when he confessed, the man nearly runs to your home on impulse. You can thank Lilia for your proposal not taking place at 3am with your door being broke in two (Sebek is much stronger than he was in his teens, and sometimes miscalculates his strength).

Instead, Sebek finds himself anxiously clutching a ring in his pocket the following week. It was the night of a school play you were hosting - one he was looking forward to since you were so proud in your work. Ergo, Sebek felt pride as well by default.

How unfortunate that he can't focus on the show. With his mind reeling so much, it's taking all he has to sit quietly in the audience. His eyes follow your movements as you direct the kids, and for a brief moment you smile at him from the stage.

Zap. Alright. Don't clutch metal when you're a living thunderbolt. Duly noted. If anything the jolt of pain brings him back to reality.

When the play ends, and all the children have gone home with their families, he finds you back stage sweeping confetti. His plan was to congratulate you, and take you to a nice restaurant where he could do this properly.

Except he can't wait. When you turn around from putting the broom away, he's already taken a knee and holding the ring out. Those diligent gold iris' not pulling away for one moment, as he holds the ring out between two fingers and his other hand placed over his heart as if taking an oath.

"Before you say anything - You have sacrificed time and time again for my happiness - my efforts are insignificant in comparison. I have taken your patience for granted like a spoiled juvenile. There was a time when I found this kindness of yours unnecessary. I thought it a distraction - a test of my strength to fulfill my destiny. I see now that I was foolish”

Sebek pauses, grinding his teeth together in regret and anguish.

“I had not known fear until you. I have more to lose now than ever before. Last week I abandoned my post - my purpose- In that moment, all I could think about was if you’d been attacked, then my life would be over. You make me lose all sense of logic and reason…so I demand that you take responsibility and marry me!”

{A gold band with an obsidian base. Gold and silver flakes are sealed atop the obsidian plate using resin. Very practical, yet charming nonetheless. Humans typically wear matching bands, yes? Sebek sees no purpose in getting separate designs since the point is to show proof of partnership. He needs a practical shape that will not interfere with combat, yet also wants it to be an aesthetic choice. Sebek could care less about looks, but if he’s going to give you a ring then it will be the best possible option to match to your worth}

Silver is beautiful like still ocean waters. He's breathtaking - literally and figuratively. With the beauty of a fairytale prince, personality of a wise knight, and deadliness of the deep sea. It's easy to be sucked in when Silver seemingly has no flaws. So easy that at one point there were rumors of him being a living doll, created by the fae to be a perfect solider.

These perceptions all rely on his outward appearance: the knight in shining armor. Albeit so, being so perfect almost makes him unnoticeable. Compared to his rowdy peers with quirks and notable personalities - Silver truly is a doll. Like the complacent child praised for being more mature than their siblings. He is as easily forgotten as he is admired.

Some would say that this is a flaw in itself - because no one is naturally perfect. No one is so complacent and calm at birth. It's simply a desirable flaw. One that hurts him, yet has ben praised by others.

Silver is strong. Silver is diligent. Silver is beautiful. Silver is breathtaking and yet not the showstopper - like gold. Gold brings warmth while silver is cold. Imperfections in gold give it character, and can be seen as art. Imperfections in silver are seen as unsightly scratches.

Silver knows this, yet doesn't want to be gold. He doesn't deserve to be gold.

Silver doesn't deserve anything. He has already taken so much simply by living. He has a world to be grateful for, and not enough time to repay his debts.

He is content being Silver - if he could then he'd be copper. Lesser. Yet he is Silver, a reminder of the blood he carries.

He will remain unremarkable yet dedicated. He will dedicate everything to his family and friends - do whatever he can to break free of his sleeping curse and help others. He will give until he cannot give anymore. Then he will give more, to repay all he has received.

....For as much as he is content with this life, Silver still envies gold.

You are beautiful like a new dawn. Ushering in each day with a vibrant display that commands attention. People instinctively admire you despite the risk of hurting their eyes. You heal the world naturally, and help others simply by existing. People take you for granted, because inevitably the moon will rise, and the cold will inevitably return.

You were bathed in golden light. This Silver noticed the moment he laid eyes on you. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Silver envies gold.

........

You envy Silver. His calm, his family, his dedication despite being limited by his crippling drowsiness. Out of the students from Diasomnia, he was the one you lingered towards more often than not. The freshmen revered him for his skills, and he was a true gentle soul. You at first couldn't believe that he was Lilia's son - how did such a kind boy come from a rambunctious tease? Revelations of his past brought much to light, and now you couldn't think of him being anyone else.

Silver was loved like the first snowfall. He had a family that loved him dearly, no matter how short his time with them would be. He was raised to bring happiness to others, and protect their hearts using his demure temperament.

Silver was modest, and silver glistened when you'd expect him to the least. As the wind caressed his hair during an afternoon siesta, or sparks lit in his eyes while swinging his sword. How the horses nuzzle his side after equestrian practice, showing full trust and affection. Even in the sweat dripping from his brow, shining as he easily finishes a set of push ups.

Yet nothing struck your heart more than the melancholy he'd emit when no one was looking. How quickly he'd fade into the background, only popping in when necessary or if someone gave him note. In these moments Silver gleamed brilliantly, yet a shadow put out his shine.

You thought the melancholy inviting. It felt so natural, so real. Except you believed it balanced dangerously between despair and serene. The larger question being which side would he evidently fall towards.

.........

Silver admires gold.

He couldn't stop the pull. He just couldn't. Not with how you seemingly watch him when no one else does. Who wouldn't feel special? With the way you take note of things he normally wouldn't think of, and recklessly delve into helping others with no regard for yourself. Whether you desire the trouble is beyond him - the matter is that you see every issue through. There isn't a soul who doesn't know of the ramshackle prefect.

Perhaps this is his torment to endure. To get a taste for what he could have been, and willingly be tied to it.

Silver stares into a vanity mirror, his expression neutral despite the growing emotions inside. A slightly tattered sheet is tied around his neck like a bib, covering his front and part of his back. A shiver runs down his spine as you comb through his hair, deftly trimming the edges with a pair of kitchen scissors with the precision of a professional. A shiver runs down his spine every time your fingers linger against his scalp, either from tucking stray strands or combing through layers with your fingertips.

Your expression is stern, eyes intensely focused as you cut around his ear, afraid to nick him in the process. He finds the expression adorable yet bites his tongue. Silver couldn't think those thoughts. Not when you offered to do this out of the kindness of your heart.

Nonetheless, his heart thrums. If it were possible he'd think the organ about to pop out at any moment.

"Finished!" you smile in satisfaction and tussle Silver's soft locks for good measure. In one fell swoop, you undo the knot around his neck and pull the makeshift apron off of him. Silver nods, a slight smile teasing the edge of his lips. He stands from the chair and steps over any hair on the floor, reaching for the broom to clean before you could think to. "Thank you. I no longer need to schedule with a barber. This will save much time," In truth he had no intentions for a haircut. Either himself or his father would trim the ends once they started interfering with his sight, but he was too busy as of late. You were the one to notice how his bangs hindered his vision, and offered to help. Silver couldn't bring himself to deny your kindness. "You really like it? Hehe. Y'know, maybe I should start a shop on campus? I only started doing this since there aren't any affordable salons....maybe with it I can finally afford to fix the guest room!" you cheer and prattle on about all the different possibilities. Occasionally you'll ask for Silver's input, or even give an off hand compliment about how he was the perfect 'test subject'. Your company is intoxicating, he realizes. Talking with you is as easy as drinking water. Before Silver realizes, night has fallen and you've fallen asleep on the couch. Despite his better judgement, he finds himself wandering the Ramshackle door. He compulsively cleans up the mess you'd both left behind during his visit, doing the dishes from dinner and rearranging things here and there. As he does so, Silver notes all the little improvements around the dorm. It feels more like a home than a school building. Then again you do live alone. He wonders how often you host visitors, and if you unknowingly ensnared them just as you've done to him. He covers your shoulders with a blanket and steps outside under the moonlight.

It’s cold.

...............

You wake up the following day to find all the windows shut, your living room clean, and a warm blanket covering your shoulders. Your eyes peer around for silver, yet turn up empty.

Of course. Silver has a dorm to return to and people that would miss him if he returned late.

Shuffling around the silent dorm, the rickey old floorboards creek underneath your weight. In manufactured motions, you brew a cup of tea and pour it into the only well-used cup from the cabinet.

As your cup brews, you sit at the table with the blanket still clutched tight over your shoulders.

The tea goes cold, yet you are warm.

................

Silver loves gold.

but silver and gold don't mix. The question always is: silver or gold? When deciding a piece of jewelry to match your skin tone, people will ask 'silver or gold'? The metals are not meant to mix because they clash. It's an outfit catastrophe.

Yet, Silver cannot help but wonder. As he lays with his head in your lap and the sun and silence coaxing him to slumber - what if an outfit existed to compliment both silver and gold?

"Silver..are you sleeping again?" you tap his cheek with one hand, and his eyes open instinctively. Despite his drowsiness he will always look for you. Yet right now he's never regretted the magnetic pull more. With the sun casting a golden overcast, you peer down at him from above with tender eyes typically reserved for one's child. Your glow is breathtaking, and he cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach that he is unworthy. With such gentle hands combing across his scalp and eyes that look upon him so tenderly - he is afraid to steal your warmth. And yet… "You are beautiful," Silver lets it slip, his hand reaching to brush against your jaw as if under a spell. He feels unnervingly calm. Not in his usual way, where he is constantly observing and playing a game of mental chess. This is a true calm, and he knows now that this is a point of no return.

Silver is beautiful like a still ocean. You are beautiful like the rising sun. When combined, a perfect image is formed just waiting for an artist to stumble upon it.

Against his wishes, the world has granted the child of dawn another gift. The gift of true love. 'True love's kiss will break the curse' and while it is childish to believe so in this case, Silver does so wholeheartedly.

When with you, the days pass like minutes. He wants nothing more than to forgo need for sleep, if only to work harder towards becoming a man worthy.

Silver envies gold for it's effortless demand for love, yet he no longer wants to be gold. He no longer wishes he were born copper.

Gold loves silver, so Silver he will be.

And with time, both Silver and Gold will be ground to dust regardless.

He thinks of this on a winter evening while holding a ring up into the moonlight. It's cold outside, yet he doesn't mind. The chill atop his nose does nothing but tinge it a lovely rosy color.

He looks through the windowpane into a home masquerading as a school building. His reflection is familiar yet changing rapidly in comparison to his family. The years have aged him, yet not by much. Silver is stronger, his soft jaw a bit sharper. His bangs have grown long again, it would soon be time for a cut. Perhaps he'd enlist a 'barber' after relocating back to the castle in briar valley.

Inside you sit at the couch, sipping from a well-used mug with Grim on your lap and watching cartoons. Silver's bag rests on the armchair, unzipped with nightly necessities spilling out the side. A slightly newer baby blue mug sits on the coffee table, with steam evaporating into the air as it waits to be used.

Silver smiles, walking towards the door and walking inside. Heat warms his cheeks and he is calm.

"I know I am unworthy of you, the thought plagues me to this very moment. Yet I cannot help but love you - like wishing on a star yet knowing deep in the depths of your heart that miracles are made not granted. I've received many, so I would know. My father gifted me life through love - and with you I understand how it is possible. I cannot imagine life without you. I promise this, I will cherish you and protect you for as long as you allow it. Would you marry me?"

Months later a ceremony is held in a secluded forest, in the yard of a cottage where a child first learned love. As an adult, he joins his most precious in matrimony, offering his sword to be sworn faithful.

You are beautiful like the first breech of daylight - and for once, Silver is happy to be a man of dawn.

Silver and gold.

Everyone wishes for silver and gold.

How do you measure it's worth?

Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.

{A ring forged from a silver band, gold leaf embellishments, and a moss agate core. Enough said.}

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #diasomnia #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #silver x reader #twst silver x reader #silver vanrouge #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst imagines #I FREAKIN FINALLYT FINISHED THIS SERIES

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eroselless · 3 months ago

Text

─────────────── somebody else // 1

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [2.8k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist

warnings: insecure reader

note: thank you to the anon that requested this! i absolutely loved writing this. although the anon didn’t specify if they wanted this as a multi-partner, i feel like i wouldn’t be able to do it justice with just one part. i tried my best to make this a little bit of a slow burn without dragging it out too much. happy reading!

The hum of the engines reverberates through the paddock as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. It casts long shadows over the track, the sky painted in soft pinks and purples. You huff as you move around the backroom, not yet used to the fast-paced world of Formula 1, the chaos that comes with each race still new to you. You’ve been working as part of the McLaren hospitality team for a few weeks now, moving from city to city, country to country as the season unfolds quickly. It is a demanding job, with long hours and high expectations, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

You were introduced to the sport later in life, in your late teens. Your father had been involved in karting, often taking you to his races, but he had never considered going any further. You had grown accustomed to the roar of the cars, the smell of burning rubber, the palpable tension in the air – it became intoxicating, thrilling, and nerve-wracking. You had slowly pushed yourself to become more involved, snagging a job that you had anticipated for a long time. Working in F1, even just in hospitality, was a dream that could open doors for you.

Like any other race weekend, you are on your feet from sun up till sun down. You ensure that everything runs smoothly for all the guests that come and go in the McLaren suite. You move through the crowds with a practiced grace, offering smiles and the most attentive service to VIPs, sponsors, and team members alike.

You reach over the table, pouring out champagne to a group of executives, feeling a tinge on the back of your neck. Glancing up, you can feel someone’s eyes trained on you. There is a rush of chatter, a group of young children, all dressed in matching orange attire.

You see Lando standing among them, a smile on his face as he speaks to them. His eyes flicker up to you, attention divided as he tries his best to keep track of what a young boy is telling him and watching you move around the room.

It becomes harder to ignore as the day drags on, his gaze following you whenever he comes in and out of the suite. You try to think nothing of it; you are one of a handful of servers, you would be noticed, of course. It is nothing, right?

“Need a hand with that?”

The sound of Lando’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, startling you slightly. You turn from your spot at the bar, a tray of empty glasses in your hands, ready to be sent to the kitchen for washing. He leans casually on the counter, fingers fiddling with a homemade bracelet he undoubtedly got from a fan. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, a familiar and warm glint you’d only ever seen from afar. He gestures to the other tray that sits on the bar, equally as full as the one you’re carrying, a lopsided grin on his face.

Forcing a smile, you try your best to push down the flutter in your chest. “I think I can manage, thanks.”

Lando leans in slightly, his voice low. “I’m sure you can, but it never hurts to have a little help, right?”

His close proximity makes your stomach burst with butterflies, but you keep your composure. You shift one tray in your hands, holding up one before grabbing the other one and balancing it on your fingers. “I appreciate the offer, really, but you’ve got a race to focus on. Can't have you getting distracted.”

“Maybe I like distractions,” he quips, his gaze following you as you begin to move away from the bar. He meets your eyes as he raises his eyebrows. “Plus, I’m pretty good at multitasking—driving fast and helping with drinks. Can’t be that different, right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back the smile that threatens to pop out. You shake your head as you take another step, breaking away from his stare. “I’ll keep that in mind when I see you out on track.”

He chuckles, his laugh warm and genuine. “You do that. And I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

With that, he saunters off, leaving you standing there slightly confused and trying to process what had just happened. As you watch him go, he turns back slightly to give you another smile and a nod before exiting through the front doors. You can’t help but feel lightheaded as you make your way to the kitchen, biting your lip as you do. Jesus Christ, what was that?

The rest of the day passes in a blur of activity, the memory of Lando’s casual smile lingering in your mind. It doesn’t leave your thoughts as you continue to run into him at the next few races. He pops in before the day descends into full chaos to see how you’re doing and checks on you at the end of the day, always ready with something to make you feel lighter on a stressful race day.

You find yourself expecting his presence, your banter becoming a regular part of your day, a little slice of normalcy in the otherwise hectic and fast-paced environment. He teases you about your work, making light-hearted comments about how serious you’ve become or how you’re in the know about everyone’s gossip. He pulls you into hugs or gives your nose or cheeks a gentle pinch whenever he gets the chance. In return, you tease him about his racing, jokingly offering tips on how to handle certain corners or shave a couple of seconds off his lap times.

One afternoon, he slides into an empty seat, panting as he sinks into the chair. “Hey, you,” he greets, pulling his hat off and placing it on the table in front of you. “Busy day?”

“You could say that,” you reply, glancing up from your work. “How about you? Surviving the media circus?”

“Barely,” he jokes, rolling his eyes. “But it’s all part of the job, right?”

You nod, smiling. “I guess so. You seem to handle it well, though.”

He shrugs, that easy grin still in place. “It’s all about keeping a cool head. Speaking of which, how about you? How are you handling everything?”

“Me?” you question. “I’m just trying to keep up.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” he says, his tone sincere. “Seriously, everyone’s noticed how well you’ve fit in around here.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment, and you duck your head, suddenly interested in a spot that won’t come off a spoon. “Thanks, Lando. That means a lot.”

There’s a brief silence, the kind that’s beginning to feel familiar between the two of you—comfortable, yet charged with something unspoken. You can feel his eyes on you, observing your gentle movements. When you finally look up, he’s still watching you, a tranquil expression on his face. It makes your heart skip a beat, his blue-green eyes almost admiring you.

“So, what are your plans after this?” he asks, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity.

“I’m not sure yet,” you admit, trying to keep your tone light, not wanting to reveal that his gaze is melting your resolve. “Maybe just relax, take in the sights. I haven’t really explored much outside of work.”

His smile widens. “Well, if you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me.”

You laugh, gratefully nodding at him, but your mind races with possibilities you quickly shove away.

It’s not until the next race weekend that you see him again. You’re busy arranging the seating in the hospitality suite when you feel a presence behind you, followed by the gentle sound of cutlery clinking. Before you can turn around, Lando’s voice drifts over your shoulder.

"Straighten up those forks, will you? We wouldn’t want our guests to think we’re unprofessional."

You laugh, rolling your eyes as your fingers move to adjust the silverware he’d nudged out of place. "I’m pretty sure they’re here for the racing, not the table settings."

"Well, if the racing doesn’t impress them, maybe your impeccable attention to detail will," Lando teases, leaning against the back of a chair as he watches you continue to move things around.

You turn to face him, a hand on your hip while the other twists a rag you’ve been using to wipe down the tables. A smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze. "And what about you? Do you think my attention to detail is impressive?"

Lando’s smile widens, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh yeah, I think you’re impressive, full stop."

You shake your head, looking down at a box full of cutlery rolls, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris."

"Who said anything about flattery?" he retorts, his tone light but sincere. "I’m just stating the facts."

"Facts, huh?" you glance over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow. "What other facts do you have for me?"

Lando pretends to think for a moment, leaning back in his chair. "Well, let’s see… You’re always the first one here in the morning and the last to leave at night. You keep calm under pressure, even when the kitchen’s on fire—literally. And you have this little tick when you smile—which, by the way, you don’t do enough—you look away or cover your laugh with your hands."

His words catch you off guard, and you pause, unsure of how to respond. You'd grown used to his teasing, but this felt different. He rambles a little as if he can’t get the words out fast enough. It could mean anything, but your mind refuses to acknowledge that it might be more than platonic teasing. You hear the sincerity behind his words, and it makes your heart race slightly, in a way that is both exciting and terrifying.

You quickly mask your uncertainty with a playful roll of your eyes. "And you’ve been keeping track of all this?"

"Maybe," Lando admits, not backing down. His smile softens as he watches you closely, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes.

Before you can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps breaks the moment, and you’re both reminded of where you are. A group of VIP guests enters the room, and you immediately slip back into work mode, offering them a warm smile as you direct them to their seats.

Lando lingers for a moment, his gaze lingering on you before he too slips away, back into the bustle of race day.

Your casual banter continues throughout the day and as the weeks pass. But the more time you spend around Lando, the stronger the urge to pull away becomes. He is so easy to talk to, so genuine in his interactions, but you can’t shake the feeling that you might be reading into things too much. A voice in the back of your mind keeps reminding you of the reality of your situation. He’s Lando Norris—a world-famous racing driver, adored by millions, with the world at his feet. You never doubt your skills, but you are just a hospitality worker, a coworker who happened to become a friend. Just a friend, right?

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few races later, after a hectic race, the team gathers for a small celebration. Both Lando and Oscar had performed well, amplifying the mood around the whole paddock. You're busy fixing drinks and chatting with guests, your thoughts still drifting back to Lando. You feel your heart flutter every time you catch a glimpse of him, whether he is laughing with Oscar or signing autographs for fans that are brought in. You have no doubt that he is an attractive person and are determined not to let your feelings grow further than they already have, but every touch, every brush of his fingers, or his hand on your back, sends your mind spiraling. Could you be seeing something that isn’t there? Is he just being overly friendly now that you have established a connection?

The questions swirl endlessly in your head as the evening wears on, and by the time the celebration winds down, you feel overwhelmed. Stepping outside for fresh air, you find a quiet spot on the balcony overlooking the track. You let out a sigh as you sit down on the ledge. You lean your head back on the wall, trying to clear your head. Your eyes water up a little as you let yourself relax, but you are quick to wipe them away when you hear footsteps approaching.

Turning, you spot Lando. His hands are shoved in his pockets, a gentle smile adorning his lips.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Of course not,” you say, shifting over a little to make room for him. He sits down next to you, a sliver of space between your two bodies. You sit in silence, the night air filled with the distant sounds of the paddock winding down. You can feel warmth radiating from him, a familiar tension beginning to crackle between you. It is a comfortable silence, weighted down by so many questions and unspoken words.

“Tonight was fun,” Lando speaks up after a while, his tone relaxed. “The team did great.”

You hum in agreement. “Yeah, it was a good day,” you say, glancing over at him. “You did great.”

He smiles, a soft, almost shy smile. It's a smile you have grown used to, always paired with rosy cheeks and a bashful look in his eyes. Your heart betrays you as it flutters in your chest. “Thanks. But I couldn’t have done it without the support of the team—including you.”

You smile, turning away instinctively, suddenly aware of the tick he had pointed out just a few weeks ago. “I’m just in hospitality, doing my job.”

“Maybe,” he says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “but you do it well. I’ve noticed how hard you work, how much you care about what you do. It’s one of the things I like about you.” He leans back on his hands, watching as you search for what to say.

The words hang in the air, heavy with something you don’t want to acknowledge. The voice in your head speaks again, denying, denying, denying. He’s just being kind, nothing else.

“I—thank you,” you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. “That means a lot coming from you.”

He looks at you then, really looking at you. His eyes are hooded, eyebrows drawn together slightly. It’s as if he can see right through the defenses you’ve been trying to keep up. There’s something in the way his eyes peer out at you, a vulnerability that seems to mirror yours. There it is again, the nerves and the ache in your chest.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “I just wanted you to know.”

There is a beat of silence, and before you can respond, the doors open behind you. Your name is called, and you are quickly pulled back, retreating into the safety of professionalism. You’re needed inside.

“I should get back,” you say hastily, blinking the haze out of your eyes. “There’s still a lot to do.”

Lando clears his throat, sitting up, his expression unreadable. His voice is now deflated. “Yeah, of course.”

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t dare look back. There are so many emotions swirling in your mind—confusion, longing, and an ever-growing sense of fear. You want so badly to let yourself believe that there could be something growing between you, but there will always be doubts rearing their ugly heads. There will always be whispers telling you that it is all in your head, that you are only setting yourself up for disappointment. As soon as you pass the glass door, you let out a deep breath, a knot forming in your throat.

a/n: thank you so much if you’ve made it to the end! i am already in the process of writing the next part so it should be out soon! any feedback, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated, i love seeing your reactions and notes!

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic

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quimichi · 2 months ago

Note

Day 1 of asking Kinich with a reader that's quiet/calm 24/7

✎ KINICH WITH A CALM AND QUIET S/O ᝰ.

a/n: since you asked 2-3 times, here you go <3

Kinich is the perfect compliment to your calm demeanor. He's the moon, you're the stars

He's constantly at your side, quietly keeping you company. He follows you like a well-trained puppy, desperate for scraps of your attention. As Ajaw would put it.

Every day he prays that you do not tire of him, that you will continue to look at him with love. He loves being your boyfriend, and he would do anything to keep you in his life. He would give you the world on a sliver platter. Kinich is constantly watching you while you go about your day — studying the motions, the subtle curves of your expression, the things you do when you are not paying attention to yourself.

He notices you as you do your hair in the morning, or your eyes fluttering as you watch clouds pass. He watches you bite your lip, run your hands over the pages of a book, chew on a pen in the middle of writing a letter.

Every little, unconscious gesture you make is observed by Kinich. Every tick, every mannerism, every movement. You are calm, in control; a quiet pillar in the raging storm. In Kinich's eyes, you are perfect. He can't help but to admire you, to study the way you maintain your cool, no matter the situation.

Whenever you remain composed even in the face of difficulty, he feels a sense of awe. Your ability to stay collected even when the world is falling apart feels like a secret, a blessing only for your eyes.

And obviously he admires how calm you can be with Ajaw. Mind you, he slapped him all over Natlan just to shut him tf up, but Ajaws bestie Y/n would never.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin kinich #kinich #kinich x reader

816 notes · View notes

myvoiddreams · 3 months ago

Text

Fragments of Starlight (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Finally saved, there is nowhere else to turn other than the impending war.

Word Count: 4,666

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: First, I am SO sorry that this took me ages to get together. Second, I am SO grateful for all the amazing feedback and sweet messages I’ve received from everyone. This is a hobby of mine that I love and love to share. Third, please don’t be mad at me after this.

Part 1, Part 2

---

Before

It had been a long night, full of unsettling dreams. Not that that wasn’t normal. A yawn escaped my lips as I rolled over to the morning light peeking through the curtains, the haze of night still lingering on me. Morning, that meant training. Stretching off the daze and the dreams, I sat up in bed and an herbal smell crossed my senses. With furrowed brows I looked to the nightstand next to my bed.

There sat a steaming cup of tea. Tea? Where the hell would that have come from? I reached for it, pulling it from the nightstand. Under the mug was a folded-up parchment. Placing the mug back down, I reached for the note and unfolded it. Azriel’s neat handwriting adored it.

“No training today. Cass and I are off to meet Eris. Drink up in the meantime. – Azriel.”

A smile spread across my face as I sat the note back down and took the mug into my hands. Blowing some steam away, I brought it to my lips. Peppermint. My favorite. My heart fluttered at the hot drink. Azriel must have caught on that it was always peppermint tea I would drink when staying up to finish work, a book, or whatever it may be.

After a few more sips, I set the mug back down on its place on the nightstand. I picked up the parchment once more and flipped it to the empty side and with a pen adorning my nightstand drawer wrote, “Don’t forget to breathe between brooding sessions. Stay safe out there, Az. – Y/N.”

Settling the parchment back onto the nightstand I knew the house would have it delivered for me. By the time I had reached for another sip, the note was gone.

---

The exchanging of notes had become a normal thing for me and Azriel after the first one I found placed on my nightstand. It was sweet really. They went from anywhere about having a good day, to meeting up later, or even just teasing one another. Teasing one another was my favorite.

Azriel, with his slinking shadows, was always sneaking up on me. Whether that be in the training ring, or in the library. So, I had left a note on his desk for him. Trying to get the house to understand that I wanted to deliver this one myself before it could simply just take it from under my fingers. The house had also grown accustomed to mine and Azriel’s note sharing.

Upon his desk in his room, I left a note that read, “If you keep sneaking up on me, I might have to start carrying a bell for you. - Y/N.”

Satisfied with leaving it on his desk, I left his room and made for my own. I walked down the hallway, and as I was turning the knob to reach my own room, a hand clasped around my shoulder, “A bell won’t help you, but nice try.” Azriel’s voice made me jump out of my skin.

I swirled around and all but smacked his hand off my shoulder out of instinct. He chuckled at my response. His stupidly beautiful smile was something I still found myself grateful for being able to see. His usually stone-cold appearance would fade away when you knew him well enough. When you knew him the way I do.

“Damnit! How the hell are you that quiet and that fast!” I was smiling now, but still flustered with his surprise appearance. I was just in his bedroom after all. A blush crept up my cheeks at the thought.

“I have shadows in my room at all times, they just whispered to me about a certain someone sneaking around there. Then, they told me what your note said. I couldn’t just pass up on the opportunity to tease you a little.” His voice was warm. Azriel was always warm to me. He lifted his hand to my face and brushed some of the hair that had fallen into it from his surprise, behind my ear.

I’m sure my cheeks burnt bright now, at the touch, but I couldn’t help but just smile and shake my head. I pushed him away playfully and turned to my bedroom to enter.

As I entered, I heard his chuckle dancing in the hallway again and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of its chest as I shut my door.

---

Now

The pain that decorated my body was nothing compared to what was soaring through my hands and my heart. After being rescued I was taken directly to a camp where some of Rhys’ armies were. Instead of being put in the infirmary, they put me in a tent of my own, where Madja could tend to me personally.

I had asked Madja to tell the rest of the Inner Circle to leave me be while healing. I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t ready to forgive and forget.

Madja was there, unwrapping my hands again. It has been a few days since I was saved, but my hands were not healing at the same rate the rest of me did. At the site of my hands, I became nauseous. Fresh, pink skin was covering the back of them, but the palms. The palms were still blistered. Still sloughing off with old skin and trying their best to cover it with the same granulated tissue of the backs of my hands.

“Listen Y/N,” Madja sighed, “I cannot express to you how important it is for you to keep resting. You need to keep these hands bandaged at all times for the foreseeable future. This war is something you may need to take a step back from. You have been through enough.”

I respect Madja, I respect everything she had to say to me, but there was no way. “I can’t simply sit out Madja. Not after what they did to me.” I said back quietly, not letting my gaze meet her’s.

“I was afraid you would say that,” sighed the older female.

“Madja, can I ask you something, personal?” I winced as she applied a balm to the palms of my hands.

“Let me guess, it has to do with that silly Shadowsinger?” She didn’t look up from what she was doing, but I took the invitation anyways.

“How the hell do I put this behind me? This entire Inner Circle has changed since those Acheron sisters entered it. I want to be able to know my friends, my court, is there for me as I am for them.” The words were getting harder and harder to get out of my mouth, but I ventured on, “They left me there, grabbed Elain, and left me there to die.” Tears started flowing then, “I have known them for centuries, and yet, they still chose her over me.” I was slightly embarrassed at my vulnerability with Madja.

She simply continued to wrap my hands after finishing applying the balm and hummed. She let some silence slip on as she thought of a response.

“Y/N, you are right, you have known them for centuries, and Elain not even a cusping a year. You have to understand that that’s why they left you there. They were under duress, either save her, who does not know how to defend herself, or you, who has proved time and time again you can withstand so much.” Madja looked up into my watery eyes and continued, “They were terrified out of their minds when you were up and missing. Cassian did nothing but blame himself. Azriel sent his shadows to all corners of Prythian searching for you.”

I calmed my crying and was only sniffling now as she went on, “They love you Y/N. Even if their misplaced actions are not great at showing it. They may not deserve it right now but consider finding some forgiveness to show them. They are your family.”

I let her words fumble around my mind as she got up and left the tent. As much I want to forgive, I just couldn’t.

---

Before

I was exhausted, truly exhausted. There was a meeting earlier in the day, about strategizing when it came to getting more information on Hybern. I had offered to become an inside agent. To follow Hybern, become one of his soldiers, and send the information back to the Night Court. Rhysand on the other hand had gawked at my offer, and utterly refused it. He then decided to reprimand me, in front of everyone, on how reckless I had been even suggesting such a thing. It was embarrassing.

My mind had been reeling since. I was no use just sitting around, waiting for shit to hit the fan. I wanted to be helpful, I wanted to do something. I was a warrior to this court, an emissary to Dawn. I was no stupid child, like Rhysand had diminished me to during that meeting.

After a day of sulking and my mind reeling, I needed out of the House of Wind. So, I went to one of my favorite places. It was one Azriel had flown me too once. But, I wanted to be alone. Without him to fly me, I’d have to hike there.

A high hill on the outskirts of the city, where the Sidra had broken off into many little streams and creeks. The hill was plush with fresh beautiful grass and a cool evening breeze made the grass sway. Night had fallen by the time I had made it there, to my favorite spot.

Right on time. I told myself as I laid directly into the grass, looking up into the expanse of stars above. It was here I was usually able to find some solace when my mind would wander. Everyone had their burdens to bear, but this place made it seem a little easier. Everything I loved was slipping away from me, I could feel it. That impending feeling of pure dread.

I tried to push it away as I looked up into the stars.

A few hours had gone by when I heard the beating of wings. I sat up in the grass to see Azriel landing on the same long grass, only a few feet from me. I gave Azriel a half smile as I sat up to meet his eyes.

“I was starting to worry about you.” Azriel sighed, playing with his hair as he walked over to me.

“I just needed to get my mind off everything. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Azriel sat down next to me, our knees touching now. “Remember when you brought me here for the first time?” A smile spread across my face for the first time that day.

“Of course I remember it.” Azriel smiled as he reached to take off his jacket. My brows furrowed as he handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I took the jacket from him. His comforting smell immediately filled my nose. Cedar and the night mist itself.

“Please, I can see your goosebumps from here.” He chuckled as I looked myself over. I had hiked up here during the warm of the evening, only sporting shorts and a short-sleeved leather top I usually dedicated to training. I hadn’t paid much attention to the cold that had slithered its way to my skin while I was trying to sort out my mind.

“Thank you,” I smiled at Azriel. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he knew me well. I placed the jacket over my own shoulders and placed my gaze on the sky again.

Azriel had joined me, our knees still touching, his wing behind me now. We looked up into the night sky until dawn neared. We didn’t speak, but Azriel’s presence made everything feel lighter somehow.

---

Now

I had made it clear to Madja that I didn’t want any visitors while I was healing. I knew that that would only last so long. I had just finished getting dressed when I heard my tent flap open. Those were not the light steps of Madja. I looked up to see Azriel entering. His wing cramped in the small space.

“Y/N,” his eyes widened at my appearance. While the bandages on my body were covered with clothing, my hands were wrapped out in the open for him to see and my face still held some of the fading bruises. He winced at the sight of my hands.

I looked down, away from him. I went to work on getting my boots on to the best of my capabilities. “I told Madja I wanted no visitors.” I said coldly, still not meeting his eyes.

“It’s been days, I needed to see you. To check on you, myself” Azriel cautiously walked toward me.

I began to fumble with my boots, becoming frustrated at the laces. My healing hands did not have the dexterity they once did, and the bandages were not helping. I began to shake as Azriel’s form got closer. Tears were burning at the back of my eyes. It was evident to both of us that I wasn’t going to get my boots laced up by myself. His stupid, comforting, beautiful scent made its way to me. It was only making me lose whatever composure I was forcing on myself.

“Let me help you,” Azriel all but whispered as he reached to gently grab my hands in his.

My hands.

“Do not touch me.” I breathed out, ripping his closeness away.

He stumbled back, looking shocked. He pulled his wings in closer to himself at my outburst. I could feel him, feel his regret and agony through the bond. Through that annoying, patronizing, tug in the deepest part of my chest.

“Y/N, I care about you, let me help.” His hazel eyes were pleading now. I could almost see a silver rim aligning them. He looked helpless. I hated seeing him this way, it hurt me to know that I was causing such helplessness. But, how could I just let him in? Not after everything.

I all but laughed at his statement, huffing hair out of my face, I met his eyes, “You don’t care about me,” my voice wavered, “you showed me that when you left me there to die.” I couldn’t help but let my lip quiver.

“Y/N, you have to understand-“ Azriel began to plead, but I would not hear it. I would not silence myself on his account.

“I’ve made my mind up Azriel. If I make it out of this, I’m not going back to the Night Court. I’m leaving.” The statement truly shut him up then. I almost couldn’t believe myself either. But this pain, the pain of knowing I would never be good enough in his eyes. I would never be good enough in the Inner Courts eyes. I had gotten myself taken into Hybern’s clutches, after preaching to Rhysand to let me do more. It was mortifying, I couldn’t even get myself out. I still relied on them even after they left me.

Pathetic.

“You don’t mean that, do you, Y/N?” His face completely fell. His hazel eyes wide, his hair pushed away from his face.

“I do. I can’t stay.” I started to shake my head now, tears finding their way into my face, “You lost me when you left me there. Hell, I fucking lost me in that tent. I lost me.”

“No, Y/N, you haven’t lost anything, please.” Azriel was pleading now, I turned from him. I couldn’t stomach the sight of him on top of his emotions flowing through the bond. “Please, listen to me. I lost it when you were missing. Cassian did too. Even Rhysand.” He took slow steps toward me. “I was ordered into that camp by Rhysand to get Elain, I had no idea that you would be there too.” He swallowed before nervously continuing, “We couldn’t grab you both, it was going to be impossible. I know you, I knew you could handle another day, and then we’d be back to get you, better prepared that time.”

It made sense, really, but it didn’t cut it. “That’s not good enough.” I finally met his eyes again. Mad, this time. “I was strung up. Beaten. Cut up. With no powers whatsoever thanks to their Fae Bane knives. I was dying, and you left me there. So, no Azriel, those words are not good enough.”

He opened his mouth to retort something, but a noise of the tent opening behind him cut him off. Peering over his broad shoulders and wings, Cassian was at the entrance of the tent. He was fully armored, weapons in tow, and concern was etched in all corners of his face.

“I hate to break up the reunion, but we have to go. Now. Hybern is moving in.” Cassian was on edge with his words, unknowing of the conversation that was at hand. I hated that seeing him gave me some ounce of relief as well.

With his words, I grabbed for my weapons. A sword, sheathed at my hip, and my bow and quivers strapped to my back. The set that Az had gifted me all that time ago.

Azriel grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him, “Madja told you to sit this out.” His eyes now were full of passion, his touch was unmoving, but light. At the contact my heart fluttered again. That bond sung between us, but only I could feel it.

I ripped my arm from his touch, no matter how badly I wanted to give into it.

“I’ll see you on the battlefield, Azriel.”

---

Before

Starfall was always one of my favorite times of the year. To just spend time with my family, to share gifts, drinks, and even dances. It had gotten late, the festivities finally winding down, and everyone going to their rooms.

I wanted a final look off the balcony before fully retiring. The present giving and gifting had gone great, everyone enjoying the gifts that had been gifted. I also loved the pieces of jewelry, the books, and even the apron, that Feyre, had gifted me, knowing how much I like to cook.

The midnight blue gown followed my footsteps out. It truly was beautiful. Backless, long, shimmering, Mor had gotten it for me, and of course dolled me up to go along with it. It wasn’t often that I got this way. Only when we had to take trips to the Hewn City or other Court business to attend to. My hair was curled and draped across my back. Light makeup littered my face as well.

I was leaning against the balcony railing when I heard those tall tale footsteps. I knew that if I was hearing them then he would want me to know he was there. I turned around and met Azriel’s gaze. He was stunning. In an all-black suit, but still sporting his blue syphons. I tried to hold back my blush at his appearance.

He walked towards me, a large, wrapped box in hand. I had already given Azriel his gift. I wrapped a leather journal, and a custom-made dagger, with a necklace that had Ramiel engraved on its pendant. He had thanked me, and did not give me one in return.

I guess he is now.

Azriel approached and handed me the large, slim box.

“What is this Az?” I took the wrapped package from him.

“Open it,” he nodded his head to it, “I wanted to give this to you privately.”

I smiled up at him and reached for the wrapping. Carefully, I unwrapped the box. Once completely unwrapped, I opened the box itself. Inside adored the most magnificent bow and quiver I had ever set my eyes on. I lit up at the sight of it.

“Az, this is amazing. Was this made in Dawn?” I took the bow and quiver from inside the box and admired it. Felt them in my hands, the beautifully intricate wooden long bow, with engravings from top to bottom. The quiver made of a light leather material, fashioned with some kind of fur on the strap.

“Yes, Thesan helped me find it himself.” Azriel put his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.

“Thesan himself, thank you,” I gathered the bow and quiver and gently set them down. Then, I reached for Az, my arms stretching around his neck. I buried my head into his collarbone. His arms found their way around my waist, and his head on top of mine. “You remember when I first came to Night? Nothing but my old bow strapped to my back?” I smiled into his chest.

“And it broke, on one of our first missions together. You hit that poor male right over the head with it,” he quipped, bringing one of his hands to the back of my head, patting down my hair.

“Thank you, Azriel, thank you.” I told him again. That bow meant so much to me. It reminded me so much of who I used to be.

---

Now

My hands were in no shape to be in a battle. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. Carnage was raining down everywhere. When I wasn’t striking with a sword, I was shooting with my bow. I was going to bring down anyone in my way.

Pain or not.

Sweat was beading down my forehead, and my back. The bandages on my hands were in ribbons, blood staining what remained. My hands made it difficult. I had to adjust to the sloughing skin and ignore what pain I felt jarring up from them to my arms and shoulders.

Rage fueled me as I made my way around the battlefield. Rage for myself not being good enough to save that first night. Rage for my family, who was scattered across the grounds. Rage for falling in love with Azriel. Rage for my unreturned bond screaming in my chest.

Screaming. It was screaming in my chest. A punch to the chest made me stagger back. I grimaced and looked up to my attacker, but no one was there.

Something was wrong. I scanned the skies.

Where are you?

There. Falling.

He was falling from the sky. A scream pierced my throat as the sight. He hit the ground on a hill above the main field being fought in. All my instincts were shouting at me to go to him. The bond was crying at me to go to him. So that’s what I did. Whether I was pissed or not, I could not lose him. Not like this.

I ran, taking out everyone in my way. My body was close to giving in, not fully recovered from my time with Hybern. The pain in my hands continued to radiate through me with every swing of my sword and draw of my bow.

I crested the hill to see Azriel had propped himself up against a tree. His head was lying back, and he gripped the side of his abdomen. I could see the blood from here. A naga was closing in on him.

The bond in my chest thrummed and hurt. It was pain, Azriel’s pain that I was feeling. Panic surged in my bones.

I pulled my bow from my back, skin ripping on my fingers as I drew. I aimed at the fast-moving creature and with a yell released my arrow. I was moving on instinct. No different than hunting for a meal.

It hit its mark. The naga slumped over not more than 10 feet from him.

Ignoring the blood dripping from me, I rushed to him.

He had blood running down his brow. His hair was strewn everywhere. His wings were limp at his sides. Limp. His breathing was ragged. His hazel eyes were shut, pain corroded his face. Even the gold of his skin was damped. I reached for his cheek, feeling his clammy skin. My other hand found his shirt and lifted to see his wound.

It was gaping, there was so much blood. Muscle was torn, ripped open.

“Az, Az, tell me what happened,” I begged him. He only lulled his head further against the tree in response.

The bond, it was fading.

Pure fear burned through me. If that bond was fading, that meant…

I gripped him by his shoulders and shook as hard as I could, “You cannot do this to me! You cannot leave me!” My voice was raw from the hours of battle, my entire being felt like it was being ripped in two.

“Cassian! Rhysand!” I belted at the top of my lungs, praying that someone would hear me over the carnage.

I again reached for his abdomen, placing as much pressure as I possibly could on his wound. He winced in response. Good, that’s good.

“Az, Az listen to me.” The bond was flickering now. “Get up. Get your ass up!” I reached for his end, tugged at it as hard as I possibly could, but I was met with a wall. Terror, true terror overcame me.

The Night Court might have been where I lived, but Azriel was my home. I was losing my home.

There was so much blood. Blood.

That’s when it hit me. I reached for a blade that was fastened to his belt. I didn’t hesitate when I sliced into my arm, deep enough to get good blood flow.

“I’m so sorry Azriel.” I cried as I put my arm to his lips, forcing his mouth open, and the warm sticky liquid into it. “I wish I loved you less,” I sobbed, forcing more into his mouth, “I wish you weren’t my stupid, fucking, mate.”

Saying it out loud, even if he wasn’t in a state to understand, made my heart stand still. Lightheaded, I moved from in front of him. I sat next to him, holding a hand on his abdomen, and a hand on my still bleeding arm.

I couldn’t scream for help anymore, not with the dizziness that clouded me.

So, I sat, holding our bleeding wounds together.

Slowly, I began to feel his end of the bond knit itself back together. Breathing was a little easier when I realized this. He was healing then. It worked.

I looked up from our battered state to see a red blur moving toward us.

Cassian, thank the gods.

He landed on the hilltop and ran to us, taking in our current predicament. Azriel started to stir at the sound of his brother approaching.

Cassian kneeled down, taking my arm in his hand, and staring between Az and I.

“I leave you two alone for an hour and you guys decide it’s a good time to die?!” His voice was rough.

“I don’t know that now is the time to joke around, Cass.” I winced as I sat up toward him. “I’m okay, but Az..”

“Where did all this blood come from?” Cassian said gazing over Azriel’s entire form, panic lacing his voice.

“I saw him fall, when I got to him, he was down, bleeding from his abdomen.” I lifted Az’s shirt to show Cass. The wound had started to close together thanks to his quickened state of healing.

“What about the blood on his face?” Cassian was looking him over for injuries.

My heart hammered. How do I just admit it? Out loud, for anyone to hear this time. It was a fact that I had held so close to myself for so long. I had pinned after Azriel for years now, in silence. I was nothing more than a friend to him, while I fell in love with him.

“Y/N?” He looked over at me again, panic danced around me. “What happened?” His face turned stone cold.

“I.. he’s..” I trailed off, swallowing my fear. I looked into Cassian eyes, more tears somehow finding their way onto mine, “he’s my mate. It was the only way I could save him.” It was almost a whisper as the words left my tongue.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone)

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#acotar x reader #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader angst #azriel x you

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scarletts-scribbles · 10 months ago

Text

Sleeping Beauty

⁀➷ Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

⁀➷ Notes: Hey! I am so sorry this took so long! Things got busy and life was in the way so enjoy an almost 4k long saga of pure Nat fluff as a humble apology <3 (excuse editing mistakes, its too late :,)

⁀➷ Summary: The 5 times Natasha Romanoff falls asleep where she shouldn't and the 1 time she does.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Falling asleep was usually done in a bed. Preferably a comfy bed with a large spread of blankets to nestle into. That was your idea of a good place to sleep at least. However, as you’d come to learn, Natasha wasn’t exactly picky on where she chose to sleep.

The first time it had happened, the two of you were on a long train journey across Europe. You had been tasked with a mission in Prague, and Natasha insisted on accompanying you – which of course, you didn’t object to. Despite the urgency of the mission, the train ride had offered a rare moment of respite from the chaos of your usual lives.

You were only a couple hours or so into the half-day long journey when Natasha had seemingly lost interest in the book she’d been reading over, shifting in her seat as she folded the corner of her page and set the book on the small accompanying table. The train the two of you were riding was fairly modern, which made a pleasant change for once, so the luxury having a table with your seats was definitely something she was going to make use of.

You glanced over down at her, observing her subtle movements. She caught your gaze and offered a small, mysterious smile before leaning back in her seat. She sat there for a moment before you heard her shift again, this time you felt Nat’s head come to rest against your shoulder, her whole body leaning into your direction as she cosied up to you.

“You quite comfy there?” You teased gently, earning herself a small laugh as the redhead hid a smile against your shoulder.

"Very comfy," She replied, her voice a low murmur that seemed to vibrate through your chest. "You make a good pillow."

The corners of your lips rose into an amused grin, “Is that so?” You rolled your eyes playfully as your hand came to settle on the back of her head, fingers running softly through her gorgeous red curls.

As the rhythmic clattering of the train wheels continued, Natasha's breathing gradually slowed, and you could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against your side. The next time you’d looked down at her, her eyes had fluttered closed. Not in the way that someone rests their eyes but in way that someone closed their eyes after they’d given into the lull of sleep.

My, my, Natasha Romanoff. How you weren’t going to forget this.

You stole glances at her every now and then, admiring the serene expression on her face as she surrendered to sleep. It was a side of Nat that few were privileged to see – she was vulnerable, peaceful, and utterly captivating. Her usually alert demeanour softened in slumber, her features smooth and unguarded. Usually, this type of vulnerability was reserved for spaces where she couldn’t be witnessed but here, she was, curled up on your shoulder, sound asleep for the world to see.

You didn’t dare to disturb her, afraid that any sudden movement might wake her up. Instead, you shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position, careful not to jostle your sleeping girlfriend too much.

But as time passed, you found yourself growing accustomed to the weight of her head against your shoulder, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. It was a sensation you hadn't expected to enjoy as much as you did, feeling oddly content in this shared moment.

･ﾟ:

Now that was the thing about Natasha, she never failed to surprise you. Natasha Romanoff, the dangerous Black Widow herself. You could’ve never imagined she could possibly be so soft like this. It was from that moment onwards that you’d started to take a more thorough note of her sleeping habits.

The next memorable time had been only a few short weeks later. The pair of you had returned home from your mission and after a day or two settling back in, you both had to do the one thing every Avenger dreaded.

Mission reports.

They were just so boring! Of course, you understood why they were necessary for health and safety and such, but those reasons never seemed to be enough encouragement to sit from the hours of typing up, signing and filing documents. But it had to be done.

At least this time you had Natasha with you. The pair of you always did yours together anyway so being on joint missions just simplified the task. It wasn’t hard by any means, just very, very tedious.

You let out an exaggerated sigh as you stared at the mountain of paperwork in front of you, scattered across the table. Natasha, ever the professional, sat next to you, her expression stoic as she typed away on her laptop. The dim lighting in the room only added to the monotony of the task at hand.

"Nat, how do you manage to make something as bland as just typing sound so deadly?" You quipped, earning a small smirk from her, “You type with such assertion. It’s honestly impressive.”

She glanced at you over the rim of her reading glasses (the ones which you’d picked out for her even though she had insisted she hadn’t needed them) her green eyes locking onto yours. "Practice, darling. Lots and lots of practice."

As you both continue typing away, the monotony of the task begins to take its toll. After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finally pushed her laptop away and stretched, her muscles groaning in protest. "I think we've earned a break, don’t you?" She suggested, looking at the clock on the wall. "Why don't you go grab us some food? I'll stay here and finish up the last bit."

Relieved to escape the paperwork for a while, you agreed eagerly. "Food sounds good love. What are you in the mood for?"

She thought for a moment before replying, "Surprise me. Just nothing too greasy, please."

You nodded, standing up and stretching your own tired limbs. "Got it. Mind if I go take a short walk first, I could really use some fresh air, be back in a bit?"

“Yeah of course sweetheart,” Nat smiled and waved you off, “Take your time darling, we’re in no rush.”

You stretched out your arms as you stood up, shaking out the dull aches that had formed before moving round to Nat’s side of the table to plant a sneaky kiss to her cheek, “I won't be too long, maybe half an hour at the longest.”

Your kiss left her warm inside, and you shot her a small wave as you headed out the room. You hadn’t realised how tired you were until you’d started walking around the compound. The heating had been set so it would be comfortably warm for the two of you and the sudden chill of the outside air had you snapping awake. Going for a quick walk didn’t take long, all you really wanted to do was move around a little so after 15 minutes or so, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and made a pickup order at a local takeout place.

You’d decided pasta was a safe bet for dinner. Plus, you’d added a fruit smoothie for Natasha too. It didn’t take long to collect your food; it was only a short walk away and they’d actually made it fairly fast. In total you’d taken around 25 minutes or so, not too far from your estimate and you hummed to yourself casually as you made your way back the meeting room where you and Natasha had set up in.

As you approached the meeting room, you had to balance the bags of food in your arms, you pushed the door open gently, trying not to disturb Natasha in case she was still working. However, what you saw instead made your heart melt.

There she was, slouched over slightly in her chair, her head resting on folded arms with her curly red hair falling messily onto the desk. The dim reflection of light from her open laptop cast a gentle glow on her peaceful face, accentuating the tired lines that usually went unnoticed.

The sight of your girlfriend snoozing was adorable. You could never quite understand how just small redhead could be so cute. Gently, you reached out to brush a few strands of her tousled hair away from her face, helpless to stop your lips from forming into a soft smile.

The bags of takeout were momentarily forgotten as you carefully set them down on the nearest surface. Sitting down you turn her laptop to face you and quietly get on with completing what was left of her report. The weight of the day's responsibilities seemed to fade away as you typed, your prior displeasure being replaced by a quiet contentment in simply being with her.

It didn't take long to complete and after finishing up the report, you closed her laptop gently and put it away before you gathered the takeout bags and set them on the table, arranging the food neatly – it was still warm luckily.

With a tender smile, you leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Natasha's forehead, eliciting a soft murmur from her. It warmed your heart to see her so at ease, even amid her exhaustion.

Settling back into your chair, you allowed yourself a moment to simply watch her slowly come round from sleep and as Nat stirred awake, blinking sleepily, you couldn't help but chuckle softly at her drowsy expression. "Hey there, sleepyhead," you whispered affectionately, reaching for her hand. "Dinner's ready whenever you are."

･ﾟ:

Some people like to say that twice is coincidence but three’s a pattern. And this was certainly a pattern if you’d ever seen one. But you never expected it to happen twice in the same day. Of course it wasn’t a bad thing or anything, if anything you found it adorable that she trusted you enough to be vulnerable and open around.

You loved that she was so comfortable around you. And that comfortability really came to show a few months later when the pair of you had headed down to the gym to train together. The gym had become your shared haven, a place where the two of you could escape the stresses of daily life and focus on the physical and mental benefits of training.

On this particular day, the gym was buzzing with activity. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking and the occasional thud of medicine balls hitting the floor filled the air, Clint and Thor could also be heard grunting and throwing playful insults as they sparred together. Natasha and you decided to take residency in your usual corner.

As you both warmed up, you couldn't help but notice that Nat seemed a bit more fatigued than usual. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the subtle signs of a restless night, and the weariness that clung to her movements. Now that you thought about it, you faintly remembered being woken up by her tossing and turning and you began to wonder if she had even managed to get any sleep at all. You couldn't help but worry about pushing herself too hard.

"Come on, Natasha," you said, concern lacing your voice. "We can take it easy today. It's okay to rest. We don't have to push ourselves so hard every time."

But Nat only flashed you a tired smile, appreciating your concern. "I know, but I need this today. It's my way of clearing my mind and getting a bit of release.”

You nodded but as the session progressed, you made sure to keep a watchful eye over her, just to make sure she wasn't overexerting herself – you knew exactly just how she could get carried away. Yet despise her obvious fatigue, the two of you moved seamlessly through various sets of weights, pushing each other to improve.

Eventually, it was obvious you both needed a short break. Natasha stretched, taking deep breaths to regain some energy. You suggested finding a quiet spot to rest for a few minutes, and she agreed. You both settled down, and Nat leaned against the wall, closing her eyes briefly. After a few minutes the fatigue seemed to catch up with her all at once. She let out a soft sigh, and without intending to she let her head drop and gave into the exhaustion that had been lingering since the night before.

You observed as Natasha's breathing steadied, her features relaxing as she drifted into an unexpected slumber. A small smile played on your lips as you realised just how tired she must have been to actually fall asleep amongst the general clatter of background noise.

“You with me Widow?” You cooed in a low voice, hand coming to move aside a strand of sweat soaked hair from her face, biting back a smile as when she slowly woke back up, mumbling something incoherant to herself before looking up at you through sleepy eyes, “Awh look at you nodding off like that, come on baby, that’s enough for one day.”

You gently helped Natasha to her feet, supporting her as she rubbed her eyes and stretched. She blinked groggily, her eyes meeting yours. A faint grin tugged at the corners of her lips, appreciating the care in your voice.

“You awake enough to go get something to eat or do you wanna go get cosy on the sofa for a bit?”

“Can we watch a movie or something?” Natasha murmured softly, her hand finding your own and intwining her fingers in your own.

Of course you agreed. Nothing sounded better than to cosy up and snuggle whilst you watched a film together. It was especially nice considering how it’d give Nat a chance to unwind a little, finally letting her actually rest. Not just saying shes resting then going about her day as usual like she’d normally do.

You settled onto the sofa, Natasha snuggling close, her head finding a comfortable spot in your lap. Gently, you began to massage her scalp, feeling the tension slowly dissipate under your touch. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as you scrolled through the movie options, eventually settling on Lion King, knowing it was one of her favourites.

The movie began to play in the background, but your all attention was on the peaceful expression settling across Nat's face.

“Oh my sleepy baby girl, again?” You whispered knowingly, recognising the way that her blinking began to slow, taking longer and longer for her to reopen her eyes, “Natty sweetheart, if you’re this tired do you not want to go up to bed? It’d be a lot comfy than sleeping on me my love.” You asked, your hand finding its way to her hair, gently massaging her head of red curls.

Your question fell on deaf ears however as Natasha had already given in and let herself fall back asleep. This wasn’t a problem of course, for now you’d be content to hold and watch over her as long as she needed.

･ﾟ:

By now you’d gotten used to Natasha’s sleeping patterns by now. It was an endearing habit by now. Still despite everything, she’d never complain or whine, always content just to fall asleep where she was.

You’d always reminded her that she only had to ask and you’d be more than happy to get cuddled up in her bed with, but she’d never found it in herself to ask.

Your favourite time it happened was only recently. You and Natasha were attending one of Stark’s galas, truthfully the pair of you didn’t really care much for them but Tony had insisted on everyones attendance so you’d both decided to dress up for the occasion.

Natasha looked stunning, her gorgeous curves being accentuated by a beautiful black dress. You were beyond proud to have her on your arm.

As you entered the grand ballroom, Nat's soft hand in your own, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her. The way she carried herself with such confidence and grace never failed to captivate you.

The dim lights and elegant decor created the perfect backdrop for the event. As the gala continued the unfold, the two of you shared tales, whispered secrets, and effortlessly danced the night away. The drinks seemed to flow endlessly. Eventually you made the smart decision to switch to plain soda, meanwhile Natasha kept going.

Seeing her like this certainly wasn’t something you were used to. “I’m Russian, I can handle it.” This was her usual go to phrase when it came to drinking. You’d never seen her like this, spinning around your arms dizzily as a vodka-fuelled blush danced across her cheeks.

Despite her insistence that she was fine, you couldn't ignore the signs of her growing inebriation. Her once graceful dances turned into playful stumbles, and her words started to slur.

“Nooo, I’m fine, really, come, come dance with me.” Natasha smiled giddily, letting her hands flow over you and she span.

With a playful smile, she urged you to join her on the dance floor once again. As you twirled around together. The spinning and laughter continued until, inevitably, fatigue slowly began to creep in.

In the quiet moments between songs, she leaned on you, her eyes betraying the weariness beneath the intoxication.

You took this as sign to ease her away and you’d managed to get her settled in a small seating area away from the main floor. Now that she’d slowed down, she finally seemed to feel the effect of her drinks hit her. Her wide-pupils gazed up at the ceiling, adorably rambling off in incoherent babbles.

“Do you think we should get you to bed darling?” You smiled innocently, your hand slipping down her dress to rest against her slightly overheated skin.

She closed her eyes, still smiling up at you “Mm’ just fine here wi’ my favourite pilla’.”

“Your favourite ‘pilla’, hm baby?” You chuckled, shaking your head as she sleepily cuddled into your shoulder.

As Natasha drifted into a tipsy slumber, you couldn’t help but cradle her gently, even though this may not have been the most convenient of situations but you were certainly going to enjoy it.

･ﾟ:

Now all things eventually come to an end. Movies, books, and for the two of you, Nat’s little habit was about to be broken.

She’d come home late that night looking a look paler than usual, well, pale for Natasha’s standards anyway. When she’d left this morning her hair had been beautifully plaited, now her curls just hung loosely by her shoulders.

Nat shuffled into the living room where you’d been perched up with a book, kicking off her shoes and letting her bag fall to the floor as she came and nestled into your side.

“Long day?” You murmured softly, setting your book aside as you opened up the fluffy grey blanket you’d had previously draped over your knees to allow her to snuggle beneath it instead.

She simply nodded, biting back the urge to whine, “I hate those stupid meetings.” She grumbled, her voice holding the dragging weight of exhaustion.

Governor meetings were something every Avenger had to attend. They were painstakingly private about it meaning you were never allowed to accompany each other to them. The meetings varied a little from person to person but the main just of it was answering a long series of very repetitive questions and going through countless past missions and their details. Having to sit and listen as some fancy higher ups tried to pick you apart for every individual detail and mistake - and well, with Nat’s reputation of being constantly on Ross’s nerves, they weren’t going to go easy on her.

Nat rubbed her temples, a headache pounding behind her eyes. "And the fluorescent lights in that room... ugh, they're the worst," she added, wincing at the memory of the harsh glare. Her voice was a little raspy, most likely the result of having to constantly explain herself to idiots for the entire day.

You gently massaged her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles, “Do you want me to get you anything for that headache my sweet girl?” Your voice was kept low as your offered, not wanting to run the risk of making it any worse.

Your girlfriend sighed, leaning into your soothing touch. "Just some water would be nice," she replied, her eyes closing momentarily. After handing her a glass of water, you noticed her head nodding forwards slightly as she fought to stay awake.

"You look like you could use some rest," you suggested gently, anticipating her usual move to drift off to sleep on you whilst you stayed cuddled on the sofa.

But to your surprise, the redhead looked up at you with a faint, almost anxious smile. “Could you... carry me to bed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, clear vulnerability thickening her tone.

You weren’t sure you’d heard her correctly at first. You asked her to repeat herself to which she barely mouthed her prior words. You were helpless to stop your heart from melting at her request, realising just how drained the poor thing must be feeling. "Of course, my dear," you replied tenderly, carefully scooping her up into your arms, cradling her close as you carefully made your way into your bedroom, “I told you Natty, I’ll always be here to take you to bed.”

There it was, the moment Nat had finally asked to actually go to bed for once. It was a long time coming and you’d loved being with her for every step of the way, even if it had involved her falling asleep in some pretty less-than normal places.

As you laid her down on the bed, Natasha snuggled into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "Thank you," she murmured sleepily, her heavy eyes already drifting shut.

With a soft smile, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Anytime my love. Just close those eyes and get some rest, I'll be right here the whole time."

And right there you stayed, arms wrapped around her and the woman you loved slept against your chest in your shared bed. Finally she was getting the rest she deserved and there was nowhere else you’d ever want to be.

･ﾟ:*

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servicpop · 4 months ago

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i'm doing it, are you? domestic au ; detective oc (callahan) x bottom male reader

: cw : dialogue bolded , use of daddy (1) , phone sex

Callahan was a quiet man. Usually at home he wouldn't speak a word to you with the exception of a few breaths and murmurs, asking you to move aside when he's walking by or telling you to come sit with him when he's reading a book.

Callahan was quiet, yes, but that didn't mean he didn't care about you. He'd call you over, fingers tangled in the stiff pages of a classic as he beckons you over with his index finger. When you so obediently oblige, he loosely wraps an arm around your waist, hoisting you closer to his body. Callahan's fingers trace down the exposed flesh of your thigh, grabbing it and draping it over his own leg.

He doesn't say another word to you, he just held you in his embrace while he read. You weren't complaining though, with multiple hours of seemingly unsolvable cases and heated discussions was sure to have burnt Callahan out, and you respected and cherished the little moments you two were together.

The majority of the week had been Callahan in his office, staying late while he chipped away at a particularly difficult case. You barely saw him, only seeing him in the dead of night taking a shower and quietly slipping into the blankets of your shared bed. He was always gone by morning.

Callahan couldn't take it! It had been so long since he's got a proper look at your adorable face — he hates to admit how deeply he adores you. His index and middle finger were pressed into his temple, rubbing deep circles into his head. Callahan sighed, throwing his pen onto the stack of papers and folders as he leaned back into the chair, picking up the phone he discarded onto the corner of his desk to avoid distractions.

Your contact was at the top of his list. He was quick to call you — face time you. When you picked up, Callahan couldn't help the small huff of relief to see your face so close to the screen. "Hey," He murmured, wedging his phone between his keyboard and his monitor, letting the phone stand on its own.

"What's up, Marshall?" He just wished you'd actually say his first name for once; 'Marshall' reminded him too much of work. He watched as you mimicked his actions, placing your phone against a cup full of ice on your bedside table, praying that it wouldn't fall over. His eyes flickered and a smile threatened his lips. You were tightly wrapped in your blanket, hair dishevelled, and a toothy smile on your stupid face.

"How... has your day been?" Callahan asked, his voice monotonous and low. His fingers rested on his thigh while he watched you through the screen, his eyes twitching at the sight. You shuffled to propose yourself up on an elbow and Callahan got a peek of your collarbone and a hint of your perky chest. You were wearing your pyjama shirt with nothing underneath.

"It's been alright," The breath Callahan let out was one that would be recognised in bed, shaky and filled with desire. Your voice was so soft and almost grumbly from how comfortable you were. Since when did his pants get unbuttoned?

Your eyes fluttered when you noticed his odd movements, his eyes seemed to be trained to the screen and his hand disappeared under the desk. You could only see his watch. "What are you doing?" You giggle, your eyebrow raising in slight confusion. Callahan just sends a glare to you through the camera, the slight hitches of his breath were picked up by the microphone.

"Take it off, show me," He grumbled, punctuating every word. Callahan glanced down at himself, his thick cock draped over his palm, pulsating with need. Shit, he was so down bad for you. You seemed to comply with no hesitation, shifting the camera so it could prop up against the headboard. You were sat on your shins, staring up into the camera with those round eyes of yours.

He watched as you slipped out of your pants before stripping off your shirt. "Face down, ass up," Callahan barked out a command like he was giving an order. His hand dragged from the base to the head, biting back a groan as he watched you bend down, your hair spilling over the sheets as you laid your head flat on the bed.

"Put a finger in." His voice was hushed, almost embarrassed from how lewd his words were. He felt like a teenage boy asking someone for nudes. It wasn't mature, he knew that. But you somehow brought that out of him.

Callahan watched as your arm tucked underneath your body, your finger plunging into yourself. He could see it with the way your eyebrows knitted and your lips parted into a thin 'O'. His fingers grazed his tip, circling his thumb and his index around the head, imitating what it would feel like pushing into you.

"Put another one in, you know I'm bigger then that," He breathed out pushing his fingers along his length with the timing of your hands. Callahan glanced back at himself on his phone screen, realising that he wasn't giving you much to work with other than his voice and the image of his face.

Reaching out his left hand, Callahan pulled his phone forward and tilted the screen down so you could see his entire dick plaster the screen. He still left a bit of his face in frame — he knew you liked it that way. With the timing of your hand, he fisted his cock with the same pace. Everytime you rocked yourself against your fingers, Callahan pumped himself.

Just the sight of you gripping his white sheets with one hand and the other occupied with pleasuring yourself, caused beads of pre-cum to bead from the slit of his tip. "Faster," He grunted, his hand turning into one blur on your screen from how fast he was moving his hand, "You wanna make your daddy proud, yeah? Go, let me see those pretty eyes." Right now, Callahan would've gripped your hair and lifted your face off the bed to get a good look at your face. He was enamoured by how your eyes were always wet with thick tears.

When you lifted your head, Callahan busted all over his hand. He groaned — as if he was caught off-guard from how quickly he just came — and sat there with a hand over his cockhead, attempting to catch the sticky substance in his hand instead of it spilling all over his desk.

He breathed heavily, his sunken eyes glanced to his screen and saw you mirror his actions, your thighs trembling as white painted the already white sheets. "Miss me that much, Callahan?" You teased, wiping the back of your palm against your forehead to collect any stray drops of sweat.

When he heard you coo his first name, Callahan knew he had to come home. He turned off his camera before grabbing a tissue, roughly cleaning himself up before pulling his pants on, fumbling with his belt as he slid it on. "I'm coming home," was all Callahan said before he ended the call with you.

a / n ; just something quick for Callahan ... this isn't canon btw !! an alternate universe where reader is Callahan's spouse or partner !

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #sub male reader #male x reader #mlm #mlm nsft #x bottom male reader #x male reader

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babydollmarauders · 4 months ago

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1 + 2 = “NOT AGAIN!”

part of the el!hughes au

summary: in which jack and y/n (lovie) are pretty happy, but are even happier by the end of the day.

my fingers tremble as the back of my knuckles graze over the soft and supple skin on the cheek of my three month old, whom rests in his bassinet.

“what are you three doing today?” my husband lounges on the bed, his own hand sprawled on my sweatpants clad thigh; while i sit on the edge of the bed beside him.

“i think your mom is planning on taking El out to the water,” i reply, voice soft as i stare at our son, “and Leo and i are gonna go shopping.”

“shopping?” Jack inquires. the linen sheet falls down his toned stomach as he sits up to look at Elio in his bassinet, whose eyes crinkle when he sees his father.

“yeah, i need new clothes. don’t i? yes, i do. yes, i do.” my tone is squeaky and high pitched as i direct my sentences toward my baby.

the bedroom door squeaks as tiny toddler feet slap against the floor, running into the room and clambering up onto the bed.

“daddy! uncle winny ‘time to go!’” El stitches together through labored breaths, her chubby cheeks red from the exertion of running.

“uncle quinny says it’s time to go?” Jack deciphers her words, pulling the two year old into his lap as she tries to peer into the bassinet.

“mhm!” she hums, much too distracted by the baby that has scrunched his body up and opened his mouth into a yawn.

setting our daughter aside, Jack rises from the bed, hissing when i poke at a bruise on his hip as he stretches out his limbs.

he received that particular bruise as he was tending to Eleanor last night; running into her dresser as he navigated the darkness of her room after she woke up from a bad dream.

“lovie,” he grunts, batting my hand away and stepping back, “how would you like it if i poked your bruises?”

jaw dropping in disbelief, i scoff, “you do! all the time!”

a mischievous smirk spreads across his lips, accompanied by a chuckle, “i know.”

i scoot up the bed, El clambering into my lap and resting her head on my shoulder as i watch Jack bound around the room. from the closet, to the dresser, to the en-suite, and back to the dresser, until he’s dressed and ready to head off to the rink for training.

walking back to the bed, he dips down to peck a kiss to the top of El’s head before pressing his lips to mine in a goodbye kiss. when he pulls away, he turns and leans down even farther in order to kiss Elio’s chubby cheek.

“call me if you need anything,” he speaks, gathering his gear bag off the top of the dresser, “i love you, girls.”

“and you too, Leo!” he hastily adds as he leaves the room, just in time for his brother to call from the bottom of the lake house steps.

“Jack! let’s go!”

“i’m coming!”

a smile twists at my lips as i watch my toddler cuddle up to her grandmother, her eyes trained on the princess movie that plays on the living room tv.

“hey momma,” i start, catching Ellen’s attention as i pass by the couch, “i’m heading to put Elio down for nap.”

“okay, honey.” my husband’s mother nods, “i’ve got Eleanor, why don’t you go ahead and take a nap too?”

“yeah, maybe.” i shrug, “thank you.”

with the three month old in my arms, i climb the stairs, turning into Jack and i’s room at the top of the steps.

in a post-feed haze, Elio’s eyes are struggling to stay open and alert, rather crossing and fluttering shut before he pries them back open. the sight makes me smile softly, gently transferring him to the bassinet by the bed. almost immediately, his eyes fall shut and tiny little snores fill the air as he finally drifts to sleep.

i sit on the edge of the bed, admiring the infant in his little blue onesie as his fingers twitch in his sleep. and in a motherhood haze, i quickly lose track of how long i’ve sat, just watching him sleep.

“you get the snoring from your father.” i whisper, a loving gaze in my eyes as i scan his face.

“he does not! you snore like a freight train!” i hear from the doorway, my head snapping up to look behind me and finding Jack stalking into the room; closing the door behind him.

“okay, we both snore.” i concede, watching as my husband sets his gear bag back in place upon the dresser and strips down to get in the shower, “but i do not sound like a train!”

“no, you’re right.” he remarks, “you sound more like a helicopter.”

“i do not! i snore like the delicate angel that i am.”

“angel? yes. but snorer? also, yes.” Jack chuckles.

“we get it, i snore.” i huff, “how was training?”

“it was fine. i just need a shower and a nap now.”

i suppose he should enjoy naps while he can. it’s easy enough for him to have one right now.

“did you go shopping?” he asks, disappearing into the en-suite before i hear the shower water turn on.

“yeah! lemme show you what i got!” i leap from the bed, swiping the shopping bags off the floor by the bedroom door.

“shower fashion show.” my husband states, “i’m sweaty and i’m not about to listen to you complain about how bad i smell.”

“good idea.”

he hops in the shower as i bring the bags into the bathroom, dumping the contents upon the counter. and for the next fifteen minutes, i’m in a flurry of quick changes and listening to his comments of ‘oooh’ and ‘i like that’ and ‘you look so good in that, lovie’.

“use my conditioner.” i tell him as i step into a new article of clothing, “your hair is getting dry from the lake water and the sun.”

“copy that.” he calls out, and i turn around just in time to see him squirt a dollop of my expensive conditioner into his palm.

“okay, last outfit!” i announce, and he turns his head to look at me as i twirl.

“that’s pretty.” he comments amidst rinsing the product from his hair.

“hey, babe?” i study myself in the mirror as i speak, turning to the side. my heart races, and i’m fairly certain i can feel it knocking around against my ribcage as Jack hums in acknowledgement as he turns off the water, “does this skirt make me look pregnant?”

i watch his reflection in the mirror as he steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he studies my figure.

his brows furrow, face pinching in confusion as he analyzes my stomach; a small tummy left over from Elio’s birth nearly four months ago, “no?”

“‘cause i am.”

his entire body goes rigid in the mirror, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“say that again?” he chokes out, and i finally turn to face him as an anxiety ridden smile plays at my lips, tears gathering in my eyes.

“i’m pregnant.” i repeat, “again.”

Jack steps forward, wet hands plastering to my hips as his eyes dart between my stomach and my face.

“you’re sure?” he questions, receiving a nod in reply, “but we’ve only- the once- and i-”

“the once is all it took,” i shrug, resisting the urge to gnaw at my lip in worry, “i went to the doctor today before i went shopping, just to confirm what the test said a few days ago…. i’m 10 weeks.”

“three kids,” he breathes out, “oh lovie, how are we gonna do this?”

“with a lot of help from your parents and luke?” i tell him, but it comes out as more of a question than a statement. “how are you feeling?”

he blinks a few times before finally looking me in the eyes, pulling me flush to his dripping chest, “happy? scared? excited.”

“yeah?” my smile widens into a grin as his forehead drops against mine.

“yeah,” he reiterates, “we’re having another baby.”

Jack grins, his hands snaking down my hips until he reaches the crease between my ass and my upper thighs. lifting me up, my legs wrap around his waist as his lips crash against mine.

he steps forward until my ass rests on the counter, his lips trailing away to leave open mouthed kisses down my neck.

my breathing picks up, my heart pounding as my fingers sneak into the hem of the towel around his waist.

it’s at that moment that a faint cry echoes into the bathroom, alerting us that Elio has awoken.

“better get used to that, stud,” i laugh as Jack pulls away, a whine escaping his lips as he throws his head back in complaint, “because we’re gonna be getting interrupted a whole lot for the next eighteen years.”

“hey, Quinny,” i call out from the living room couch as he stands from his seat, glancing over as he hears my voice, “are you going upstairs?”

“i wasn’t planning on it, but i can?”

“can you grab Elio’s pacifier? there should be one in his bassinet, but if not then there’s some in my nightstand.”

“yeah, be right back.” Quinn jogs up the stairs, waving his hand up in acknowledgment when i call out a thank you.

the entire household is lounging in the living room, a child friendly movie playing on the tv. Trevor, Cole, and Luke build an intricate castle out of blocks with El, whilst Jim and Ellen sit on the other side of the couch, with Jack sitting beside me, and Alex sitting in an arm chair. Adam, Luca, Mark, Ethan, and Dylan all sit in chairs that they pulled in from the dining area, laughing at the sight of their friend taking building blocks with his niece very seriously.

“Trevor, stop. if you put that block there, it’s gonna fall!” Luke huffs, knocking the red block out of Trevor’s hand and onto the floor.

“you’re gonna teach baby Hughes bad things! stop hitting!” Trevor argues, making Cole roll his eyes as he continues building another wall of the already ginormous castle with El.

“your uncles are silly,” Cole tells El, tone serious and no baby voice in sight, “we don’t argue, do we? you and i, we make a good team.”

“she’s two, of course you get along with her!” Trevor grunts, “but if you were paired with mr. hot hands over here, you’d argue too!”

“i’m only hitting you because you won’t listen!”

the entire living room full of people is practically teeming with laughter at the scene on the floor.

“WHAT THE HELL!”

everyone freezes, the room falling silent as we all turn to watch Quinn bound down the steps.

his face is paler than usual, his eyes wild as he glares at my husband. my eyes dart around, scanning his stiff form. my body tenses as i see what’s clutched in his hand; the ultrasound photos from my doctors appointment just this afternoon.

i forgot i stuck them in my nightstand drawer. fuck.

holding them up, he glares at his brother, “NOT AGAIN!”

“hey! it takes two!” Jack pawns our small son off to Ellen, leaping from the couch and holding his hands out in front of him in attempt to placate his older brother.

“you really cant keep your hands to yourself, can you?” Quinn gruffs, “that’s practically my little sister! the poor girl can’t catch a break!”

“she’s my wife! and that night was her idea!” my cheeks flush as he announces our escapades to the room of our friends and family, “how were we supposed to know that would happen?!”

“well you’ve already had two! i think you should know by now how it works!” Quinn hisses.

“okay, can we just calm down?!” i snap, standing from my seat and facing Quinn.

“you two should be using protection,” Alex mutters from his seat. shaking his head, he looks over at Trevor and Cole, “i swear she gets pregnant every time he breathes on her.”

“shut up,” Jack growls, glaring at his best friends as they all snicker.

“you’re pregnant?!” Ellen shrieks, making Elio twitch in her arms. she looks down at the bundle in her arms, her voice softening “oh sorry, sweetheart.”

“we weren’t planning on telling anyone yet.” Jack sneers, eyes glaring daggers at Quinn.

“but yes,” i smile, looking around the room as i begin rubbing my husband’s shoulder in attempt to calm him, “we’re having another baby.”

“the last one for awhile, i hope?” Trevor questions, an eyebrow raised, but he cowers when i glare at him, “what?! the rest of us can’t keep up!”

“the last one ever.” Jack announces. “we’re not planning on having anymore. we decided a long time ago that we’re a ‘three and done’ kind of family.”

“yeah, alright.” Luke scoffs, “we’ll see how that goes.”

“can’t we all just be happy?!”

everyone’s eyes dart to me as i stomp my foot, tears welling in my eyes as i begin to feel overwhelmed with all the chaos and panic that’s filled the room.

“Jack and i are happy. we’re having another baby. that’s that! there’s no more discussion to be had!” i cross my arms over my chest.

suddenly feeling very immature for my outburst, i plant myself back onto the couch, taking my baby back from Ellen and focusing on his sweet little face to calm myself.

the room is still silent, everyone still staring at me as Jack lowers himself back down onto the couch beside me.

“hey,” he coos, “it’s okay. i’m sure they’re all very happy for us. right, guys?”

a chorus of ‘yeah!’s and ‘congratulations!’ fills the air, and my body relaxes into Jack’s embrace.

“i’m sorry, i overreacted,” Quinn sighs, crouching down beside the couch in order to look into my eyes. his hand splays across my knee, “you guys make some pretty cute kids, i can’t wait to meet the next little one.”

“yeah?” i murmur, looking at my brother-in-law.

“yeah. i just got a bit scared because you just had Elio and i’m worried for your health.” he explains, “but i promise that i am happy for you guys.”

“please don’t worry, Q,” i tell him, “my doctor says it’s completely okay and that i’m healthy. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“okay. as long as your doctor says you’re good.” he amends, and i nod.

“well i’m not good!” Jack huffs, “i’d like an apology!”

Quinn rolls his eyes, “i’m sorry, Jack.”

“not forgiven.”

“are you sure you want another baby with him? he’s acting like a child.” Luke remarks.

looking over at Jack, i smile as he grins innocently at me, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the top of Elio’s head.

“yeah, i’m sure.”

#el!hughes au #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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